Retribution
by Marj123
Summary: This is Book 3 of the Sacrifice Series, sequel to 'Sacrifice for the Side of Light' and 'Demter Guardian.' **Harry Potter has come a very long way from the wide-eyed child trotting next to Hagrid on his first visit to Diagon Alley.
1. Chapter 1

_**RETRIBUTION. **_

_**The third and final in the Sacrifice Trilogy, after 'Sacrifice for the Side of Light,' and 'The Demter Guardian.**__' _

_This story __contains adult concepts, and will be enjoyed more by adult readers than by teenagers. Sexual content is minimal. _

_The series diverges from Canon a few days after the Triwizard Tournament, when the original Prophecy was made public. While it is preferable that readers have read the first two stories in this series, it is not essential, as there is an explanation in Chapter 2, when Harry tells Sarah what he is._

_The story begins Christmas Day, when Harry is 18. He has been adopted by James and Vera Chase, and goes by the name of Lee Chase. His false birth certificate shows his age as 15 months younger than his true age. He still has some contact with the Wizarding World, but keeps his Muggle identity very quiet. There are those who want revenge for the 'Cerlikh Catastrophe,' when Voldemort was killed, and every Marked Death Eater either killed or knocked unconscious. He is thought to have lost his magic. _

_He currently attends University at Falmouth, (Cornwall.) His adoptive parents, James and Vera Chase, live at Traynor, a small coastal town, 23 miles from Falmouth. The previous year he was at Kreighley Beach Boys' Home, and retains an interest. Kreighley is just 3 miles from Traynor. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world is owned by J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 1:**_

Vera Chase glanced proudly to her left, where her three sons sat. They were all so different, and she treasured each one. She thought she couldn't love them more if they'd been born to her. Jason was the newest, the adoption only finalised two weeks before, though he'd been staying with them for several months as a foster child. And now it was Christmas Day, 1998, and all three sons were with her, listening to the Christmas morning service. She amended that, - Dan might have been listening to the service, but Lee was looking abstracted, and Jason frankly bored. Dan had been brought up to the expectation of regular church attendance, while Lee denied having any religion, and Jason… Jason had come from a home where Sunday was probably spent recovering from Saturday's drinking binge and resultant fights.

James was sitting to her right, and looking almost as bored as Jason did. He always asserted that Father O'Brien had his year's supply of sermons, prepared decades before, and simply started again every January, with occasional mention of anything on the news sufficiently dramatic that it caught his attention.

She had to admit that he just might be right. She was sure she'd heard this particular sermon before, if not the previous Christmas, certainly the Christmas before. She still liked her Sunday mornings, and Christmas would not be the same without the morning service. The quiet hour taken up by the drone of the sermon was for her a time for reflection, and these days, a time to count her blessings. She had a family. For so many years, she and James had tried for a baby of their own, and by the time they'd decided to adopt, were declared too old to adopt a baby. Babies were too much wanted. Older children were available, especially those deemed 'in special need.'

Daniel was their first, the son of some acquaintances. His family had been wiped out in a car accident. Jason was Daniel's close friend. She didn't think she would have had the confidence to take on Jason if not for the experience of Lee first, Ricky as he'd called himself then, and his disreputable friends. He'd pointed out that boys who grew up in poor homes simply could not be expected to know the rules of polite behaviour, as Daniel did.

Lee himself spoke well, and she assumed a middle-class background, but Jason's speech was undeniably very lower-class, though he tried hard not to swear. There was the odd coarse word slip out, but James pointed out that every teenage boy swore, as if it was a declaration of toughness. Jason still seemed insecure with them, sometimes pitifully eager to please, while Dan was beginning to take them for granted, calling them Mum and Dad as if he was truly their son, though he was still called Daniel Lye. He'd loved his parents, and hadn't wanted to change his name to Chase.

Jason was Jason Reed, as his father had only agreed to give up parental rights if the surname was retained. Sam Reed was in gaol, and would be for another sixteen years. Jason's mother was long dead, - an overdose of drugs.

Lee had taken their name. He was now legally Ricky Lee Chase, always called just Lee Chase. When they first knew him, he'd been called Ricky Drayton.

She glanced over at him again, and smiled. The black roots of his hair were beginning to show. He probably already had an appointment at the hairdresser to have it re-dyed blonde. He was very careful to keep his disguise. There was a faded scar on his forehead, scarcely visible under the make-up he used to cover it. Lee's background was a mystery, even to themselves. They knew there were powerful men who wanted him badly, they knew he was very much afraid of being taken, but didn't know why, or not for sure. The general conclusion was that he'd been used for sex, that someone, someone very powerful, must be obsessed with having him. He'd escaped twice that they knew of, once when he'd first arrived at Kreighley Boys' Home, and once just the previous year, when he'd vanished for several weeks, and returned a nervous wreck, with restraint marks around his wrists.

Lee Chase, real name Harry James Potter, was trying to remember when he'd last been to church. He knew it had been a Sunday routine when he'd been small, - there had even been a quite respectable set of clothing for the occasion. Maybe the Dursleys had thought there was hope of making him 'normal' then. Up until he was about eight, he thought. Maybe right up until he'd asked the policeman if his uncle was really allowed to whip him all the time.

For the first time, he wondered if Dumbledore had intervened on that occasion. Instead of being removed from his relatives, he'd been punished again, brutally, but by the time he'd woken, not only were the most recent injuries completely cured, but the old scars were gone. It had to have been magic. There had been quite deep knife scars, as well as the scars on his back. He'd seen the scars of whippings on a couple of the Kreighley boys since. Such scars didn't just go away. He guessed that the old man, the 'Leader of the Light,' would not have wanted the Boy Who Lived to show the scars of serious abuse, not when Dumbledore was the one responsible for placing him with the Dursleys. He'd still been knocked about now and then afterwards, but there was nothing that could have left him scarred or seriously injured.

He stifled a yawn, and tried not to shift restlessly in his seat. He knew Vera was thrilled to have them all with her, a family together for the Yule Service. It was special to himself as well. Not church maybe, but being together. He smiled contentedly. He'd always wanted a family, and now he had one. A Mum and Dad, though he called them Vera and James, and two brothers. He had a girlfriend as well. He treasured Sarah, wanted to marry her, but worried that it would not be fair on her, and anyway, he was only eighteen.

There were complications. He was Anirage, a wizard, not quite the same species as those he loved as family. He had no intention of telling them. It was not because it would be in breach of the Wizarding Statute of Secrecy, though it would be; rather it was because he worried that they could be in danger because of him. He was declared 'Protected' by the Ministry of Magic, but a large proportion of the Aniragi population still blamed him for the 'Cerlikh Catastrophe.'

If they knew he still had his magic, there would be more enemies, those who deemed him too powerful. No-one knew he still had his magic, and he didn't plan on telling anyone else, ever, that he'd absorbed Voldemort's power into himself. Not only his power but his knowledge and his memories. Harry Potter was not only a uniquely powerful wizard, but with a knowledge of magic that no other eighteen-year-old could possibly have.

Harry was also a young man who'd been deprived of a family for almost all his life. It was very special to him later that morning to be part of a gathering around a large Christmas tree, for the distribution of gifts. There had already been something, first thing in the morning, - a Christmas Stocking full of small gifts such as toiletries, a small paperback book, stationery, and chocolates, even though Vera admitted that this particular tradition was really for younger children. For Harry, it was his first Christmas Stocking ever, and it was now folded away carefully. He planned to keep it forever. For Dan it was nothing new, and for Jason, Christmas treats had been erratic. Jason's Christmas Stocking still had most of his gifts in it, and now he squatted on the floor, a big grin on his face, and his eyes suspiciously moist.

Vera cast a glance at her boys, and decreed that Dan should distribute the gifts as he was the youngest. She'd meant it to be Jason, but had a feeling that he was already close to tears. Boys were invariably convinced that to cry was to be forever disgraced, though she'd seen each one of her boys in tears on occasion. She wondered if Lee still had nightmares, and scolded herself when there was a furtive hope that he'd need comforting in the night. He was a self-reliant boy, with a quiet dignity and an air of confidence, in spite of his terror of those monsters in his past. He was doing well at University.

Daniel presented the gifts one by one, and each time waited while they were opened, always with polite thanks, whether sincere or not, and often hugs and kisses. Jason and Daniel had combined to present her with a vividly coloured red blouse, though she mostly inclined to quiet colours. She gave them both a hug, and said that she'd wear it the rest of the day, and maybe it would be just the thing for the New Year's Eve party. She was very happy these days, and maybe it was time for a change of style.

From Lee, it was an old book, in surprisingly good condition considering its age. Vera had a string of 'Antiquarian' bookshops, and almost forgot to thank him as she studied it. It was genuine, she was sure, but she didn't think this particular First Edition was even supposed to exist. Lee asked anxiously whether she liked it, because he didn't really know, just that he hoped, and there was another present in case. She smiled at him, "This is a treasure, my dear. It is unique, and I love it."

Lee gave her a grateful smile, and said, "It was in a box of old books, just a backyard sale."

Vera wondered if he was lying. He had access to money, she knew. It was something from his old life, before he arrived at Kreighley Boys' Home, and long before she and James had taken him into their home. But they'd agreed right at the start to let him keep his secrets. She was quite sure that they were not good secrets. Whatever his life had been, he'd fled from it. And now he was their own treasured oldest son.

Jason was opening a present from Lee now, and he was tongue-tied. Vera hadn't realised that a camera could make him so happy. Jason was a worry sometimes. It was not that he stole for money, as he was reared to do, - he'd once admitted he'd known how to hotwire a car since he was ten. But he still stole. It seemed sometimes as if he couldn't help himself. Not things very valuable, but little things, which he said were to help him remember. He'd taken a toy car from a basket of small toys that had been in the waiting room of the government building the day the adoption was finalised, and had been convinced he'd be thrown out when it was discovered. Lee said casually, "Photos are souvenirs you see, Jase. That way, you can leave other things alone."

Jason didn't answer, but he caressed the camera, and then picked up the instruction booklet, and became immersed, at least until Dan told him reprovingly that he had to participate, and it was Dad's turn next.

A traditional English gentleman's deerstalker hat, which James wouldn't be seen dead in, she thought. But he thanked Dan and Jason gravely, and put it on his head. She guessed that James was to have a change of style as well.

_hphphhp_

Hermione Granger was also enjoying Christmas at home. The Grangers didn't attend church, but they put a lot of importance on Christmas. There had been a couple of times when their only daughter had chosen to be with her wizard friends at Christmas, instead of home. It had been a hurt, though they'd tried to understand that she belonged to a different world. They were proud that they'd never even hinted to any other normal person that magic existed, or that their daughter was a witch.

They didn't know that their discretion was helped by a pendreiya imposed by one of the faceless 'Unspeakables' of the Ministry of Magic. They were the only ones with the skills necessary to perform the unconscious and binding instruction without causing damage to the victim. Since the Cerlikh Catastrophe, only one was left with both the power and the knowledge to perform the needed intervention. Three had turned out to be Voldemort's supporters, and had been killed, and the only other one just couldn't quite muster the power to make it totally binding. Strong-minded Muggles had been known to break pendreiyas. There were worries that word was spreading, especially in America. With Muggle technology increasing at a frightening rate, it was becoming extremely difficult to keep their world secret. There were growing fears of another Holocaust. Wizardkind had been nearly wiped from the face of the earth before, more than once.

_hphphp_

On Boxing Day, Sarah arrived at the Chase's place to pick up Harry. She was to join her father and brother for a few days, and wanted him with her for some moral support. Both her father and brother looked down on her, she said, just because she wasn't goodlooking, as they were, (the bastards.) And she was to meet her father's live-in girlfriend, who was probably goodlooking as well. 'He doesn't like plain women.'

Vera smiled to herself after they left. He'd given her a quick, awkward hug, and she was sure he'd nearly called her Mum. Lee was beginning to loosen up with them. If only she could have had him earlier in his life. He'd once said that he didn't know how to have parents, and it was true, she thought. He'd been sixteen when she'd first met him, certainly well-mannered, but always reserved. It hadn't been until he'd had a nightmare and had allowed her to comfort him that she'd started to see the needy child beneath the surface.

But then Jason was insisting that he had to take a photo of her in the kitchen, pretending to make dinner. She protested that she _hated_ cooking, but Jason explained that he was going to make a photo album, and when they visited his father next, he could show him. There was a sudden mischief in his expression, "He might not like it much, - that you're so much better parents than he and Mum ever were."

Vera said casually, "He's a good enough Dad that he wants to give you your chance."

Jason thought about it, before concluding in a satisfied tone, "He does, doesn't he?" Jason could remember too many thrashings, and yet he still wanted his father to care for him.

_hphphhp_

Sarah's father had arranged for them to be taken by private plane to a small landing strip near his place in Kent. They were met there, and Harry was introduced to Sarah's father and brother, Alexander Tremaine Lassiter, the 'Tremaine' emphasised, and Roderick Lassiter. Harry was polite as was his habit, and greeted Mr. Lassiter as Sir. Lassiter gave him an indifferent nod, and then Roderick said to Sarah, "This is the boy from the Home?"

Sarah answered him, quite coldly, "I met Lee at Uni."

Harry glanced at her. It was best if Ricky was not linked with Lee Chase, but he resented the contempt in the young man's tone, and he said coolly, "Roderick, I believe."

Roderick glanced at Sarah, who was looking daggers at him, and he said, "Sorry, Lee. Call me Roddy."

Harry nodded, still annoyed with him, "Roddy."

It was a short drive to the home, a large house on several acres of manicured lawn and carefully tended lawn. Waiting for them was the girlfriend, Aimee, reed slim, with a pretty face and very blonde hair. She looked to be in her mid twenties. She was friendly enough, if a little distant, and showed them to their rooms, which were conveniently next to each other, and said, "Once you're unpacked, we'll be in the Blue Sitting Room." Her eyes drifted over them both with an air of condescension, and she added, "Dress for dinner of course. It's expected, but you can stay in your casual clothes for now."

Once she'd left, Sarah said, "Dad's getting more snobbish every time I see him."

"How often do you see him?"

"Once or twice a year, mostly. I guess he thinks he should make the effort."

"It's a nice place."

"He's lived here about ten years, shortly after he left Mum. Roddy went with him, and I stayed with Mum."

"You'd scarcely know your own brother."

"Probably a lot less than you know Daniel and Jason."

Harry smiled, "Christmas with my own family. It was a bit weird sometimes."

The rest of the day, and the next, was undeniably awkward. Sarah's father and brother talked almost exclusively to each other, ignoring both Sarah and Harry, and Aimee's light conversation was interspersed with small barbs at Sarah, that there was a really good new diet that she thought would work wonders for her figure, that she should decide whether she wanted to go blonde or brunette, as mouse brown was really not an option, that she'd adore to take her shopping, as her wardrobe was crying out for an upgrade.

Sarah never once retaliated, and when Harry started to make a sharp retort, she stopped him with a word, and even accepted Aimee's offer to help her with her wardrobe, with the words and a kind smile, "There's no denying that you have a sense of style."

Aimee preened herself, and looked thoughtfully at Sarah, "We might need to look at different stores than I usually patronise, maybe even have a dressmaker. Tomorrow morning then."

In private, Harry said to Sarah, "She's bullying you. You have to hurt back when you're being picked on, or it just gets worse."

"That's probably true in the main, but Aimee… She's hurting, you can see it. Dad's had a dozen girlfriends like her, they've been together for around six months, and it appears to me that she'll soon be dismissed and she knows it. Also I think she loves him."

"She's very shallow. Does she love?"

Sarah said quite sharply, "She may not be very bright, but there's no reason to think that she can't be sincerely in love."

"I guess not." Harry shook his head, and said, as he had before, "You're the most amazing person, Sarah. I wish…" Sarah raised her eyebrows, but Harry only said softly, "I love you," and didn't say what he wished, that he could spend the rest of his life with her, maybe raise a half dozen kids together.

After a pause, Sarah asked, "What about yourself? You don't have many clothes, and hardly any good ones."

"Will we ask Aimee's advice then? I have plenty of money."

"The Chases are generous?"

"They'd like to be, but I've been resisting. I have a lot of money inherited from my real parents, and it doesn't seem right to take too much from them."

Sarah turned to him in blank amazement, and he reddened. It was just that he wanted to tell Sarah properly, everything. And yet he shouldn't, he knew he shouldn't.

Sarah asked, "Is it dangerous for you to access your money?"

"I don't think so, but it's hard to know."

"You still say that one day you could vanish."

"It could happen. I've told you that. Maybe killed, maybe just a prisoner. There are people who want that."

"The usual story doesn't quite make sense."

"It's a bit more involved that that, but telling you… I want you to stay safe, Sarah. Just being with you puts you in more danger. I sometimes think I should just hide myself away from anyone I care about, just in case."

"Are you quite sure that you're thinking rationally about the danger you're in?"

Harry smiled ruefully, "In some ways, possibly not. I can defend myself a lot better than they know, and I shouldn't really be so frightened of them. But I can't help it."

Sarah hugged him, "Tell me or don't tell me. It's your choice. But know that I am committed to you, even if it does put me in danger."

Harry hugged her back, "It's good being able to sleep with you all night. I don't have nightmares when you're there."

Sarah laughed, "A Dad who cared about his daughter would hate that, - even if I am eighteen, we're not married. But then, neither are he and Aimee."

On Saturday morning, Aimee didn't say one nasty word about Sarah's lack of fashionable glamour as she decided first on a flattering style, and then found several individual garments to fit. "Stick to your look, show a little cleavage but never too much, and whatever you do, don't go too plain. You're not plain."

Sarah smiled. She knew she was plain, but she had no intention of making herself miserable because of it, and if her body was naturally more voluptuous than was fashionable, she wasn't going to war with her own body. She was fit and healthy, and she had someone to love. One day he would tell her his story, she thought, and maybe one day there would be a future. He'd told her that he didn't know how to love, how to trust, but he loved and trusted the Chases, she was sure, and he loved and trusted her as well. There _would_ be a future together. One day she would have his children.

***chapter end***


	2. Chapter 2

_**Note that this book is third in the Sacrifice series, after 'Sacrifice for the Side of Light,' and 'Demter Guardian.'**_

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 2:**_

That evening, Saturday evening, Sarah dressed for dinner more carefully than usual. The new sky-blue dress had tracings of silver embroidery in places, was low-cut, and she wore a delicate gold and diamond necklace that Harry had bought her for Christmas. No ear-rings as she thought that piercing any part of the body was a horridly unnatural thing to be doing. Aimee helped her with her make-up, smiled at her afterwards, and told her she was beautiful.

Sarah asked, "Lee?"

"You're always beautiful to me, Sarah."

Aimee scolded, "Lee! You're supposed to say she's beautiful _now!"_

"So she is, but she was just as beautiful this morning in her dressing gown."

Sarah said, "I _think_ that's a nice thing to say."

Aimee smiled a little sadly, "Of course it's a nice thing to say. Tremaine never says anything like that to me, only that he looks disapproving if I'm not dressed up to the nines when he thinks I should be." 

Sarah said softly, "I guess a lot of men don't know how to make a woman feel good."

Aimee said briskly, "Are you ready? Lee, take her arm and enter side-by-side. I'll go behind."

Lassiter was already there, and blinked at the unexpectedly formal entry, and Sarah's appearance. He gave a crack of laughter, and said, "Good effort, Sarah. But you'll have to accept that you'll always be a plain Jane."

Harry stared at him, furious, and suddenly one of Lassiter's knees gave way and he stumbled to the side and grabbed a chair. He swore, didn't apologise, and pulled himself to his chair, rubbing his knee. Harry was upset with himself, it hadn't even been a deliberate spell and he was a little old for accidental magic. Sarah watched her father quite coldly, and said nothing.

Roddy came in, apologised for being late, and then glanced at Sarah, "That's a pretty necklace, Sis, and if I wasn't your brother, I'd probably say it was a pretty view altogether."

Sarah laughed, and said, "Thank you, Roddy. Your father told me I'd always be a Plain Jane,"

Roddy had missed the cold atmosphere and said casually, "_Your _father too, Sarah."

"No, I don't think so. I've decided not to have him as a father any more." She turned to look at her astounded father, "Would you mind making arrangements for us to go home tomorrow please? There is no point in Lee and I staying any longer."

Lassiter said bewildered, "But I thought you liked to stay with me. And I like to know you."

"I thought I should know my own father, as well. But I've given up now. And Lee says I should stand up to bullies, not just take it. You're a bully. You ignore me and you insult me. I've had enough. I want to go home, and I won't be back." She glanced at Roddy, "My brother mostly ignores me as well, but he did just compliment me. I don't know if he wants to pursue the acquaintance however."

Roddy grinned at her, "Good on you, Sis. Time you stood up for yourself."

Lassiter's eyes rested on Lee, "_You_ told her to stand up to bullies?"

"Cruel or thoughtless boys only get worse until someone puts a stop to it. But Sarah's too understanding for her own good sometimes, - she tolerates too much from other people."

"Cruel or thoughtless boys, eh?" He looked at Sarah, "I apologise Sarah. I was thoughtless. I didn't mean to be cruel. You do look pretty, and I would like you to give me another chance. And anyway, I said I'd introduce you to the Finch-Fletchleys. Joan was being critical because she said she didn't even know I had a daughter."

Sarah asked, quite coolly, "The Finch-Fletchleys?"

"This property used to be part of their estate. A very old family. There's a son, Bradley, a friend of Roddy's, and there's a daughter, a bit younger than yourself."

Harry was relieved there was no mention of a Justin. Finch-Fletchley was not a common name, and he was remembering Justin, the Hufflepuff. It would not be a good idea for it to spread that Lee Chase was Harry Potter, but there had been no mention of another son.

Lassiter said persuasively, "I'll call them tonight, and ask if you can maybe ride horses with Lisa or Brad. Lee as well. You used to like riding horses, Sarah."

Roddy added, "They've got lots of horses. I'll come too."

Lassiter asked, "Sarah?"

"Would you like to ride horses, Lee?"

"I've never been on a horse, but I'd like to try."

Sarah said with dignity, "Very well, father. Ring your friends if you wish."

"Good."

Aimee asked, "May I come?"

Lassiter looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there, before saying, but too obviously politely, "Of course." But Aimee changed her mind, and spoke vaguely about something she had to catch up on.

The usual excellent meal was provided by the cook, thanked courteously by Lee and Sarah, but both Lassiter and Roddy acted as if she was invisible. On the other hand, instead of speaking to each other, either about real estate deals, or Lassiter's latest court case, (he was a highly paid Defence Attorney,) the conversation was general, - about the surrounding district, Lisa Finch-Fletchley's infatuation with horses, and a projected visit to a nearby castle, only open by appointment.

Harry was amused by the change in attitude. Suddenly it seemed as if Lassiter cared about his daughter, and Harry was more convinced than ever that standing up to bullies did a world of good.

_hphphphp_

The following morning, Lisa Finch-Fletchley rode beside Harry, making sure he was having no trouble staying on the elderly mare. His style was awful, she thought, and yet he seemed comfortable enough, and there was really no point in worrying about style unless he was thinking of seriously taking up the pursuit.

Sarah and her father rode together, her father exerting himself to be entertaining, as if she was a potential girlfriend rather than the daughter he'd seldom taken much notice of. He'd sometimes wondered if she was even his own daughter, as she looked nothing like the Lassiters, but he was finally discovering that she did appear to have his brains. It had given him a severe jolt when she'd said that she wouldn't have him as a father any more, suddenly realising that he did indeed value her.

Sarah was a little amused, and wondered how long the sudden attention would last. Roddy was inside, doing something on the computer with his friend, Bradley.

Lisa asked, "You think you can canter, Lee? It's an easy pace, and if you're comfortable, we'll canter to the lake, and stop there for a little while."

But Harry was enjoying himself. Riding a horse may not have the thrill of hurtling around the sky on a broom, but there was the compensation of the feeling of being close to the horse. He patted 'Tiger Rose,' who must have been a beautiful horse in her day, and said, "I'm pretty sure I can stay on."

A few minutes later, Lisa put her horse into a slow canter, looking frequently after her shoulder at the novice, who was moving easily with the horse, and smiling. She sped up, and it was Lassiter who called to her to slow down.

They were to have lunch back at the Homestead with the Finch-Fletchleys, but Joan Finch-Fletchley looked at their dirty boots, and decreed that stockinged feet were perfectly acceptable for lunch, they were to leave their boots for Thomas to clean up, (Thomas was a servant,) wash up as best they could, and present themselves in the Green Room for luncheon.

Lassiter nodded, "I know the way."

He and Harry were left together, while Sarah went off with Lisa. Lassiter asked, "Do you think she'll consent to stay for the duration?"

Harry said unhelpfully, "I have no idea."

Lassiter complained, "She never said anything before... I'll have to ask her more often. Maybe she wants to go to Oxford, like Roderick."

Harry didn't answer. He didn't like Sarah's father, and wondered why he and his son were living in luxury while his daughter and her mother lived quite modestly. Roddy had gone to Eton, Sarah to Traynor Comprehensive. Her mother worked in a shop.

Lisa and Sarah were just ahead of them walking down a broad corridor toward the named dining room. They turned to greet them, and Lisa said mischievously, "You probably won't be walking as easily tomorrow. You'll be so stiff from riding..."

Harry smiled at her, "I had a lovely time thank you, Lisa. I'll have to have a horse of my own one day, I think."

Sarah had stopped in front of a framed painting in the wall, and said in a strained voice, "Lee?"

Harry took a step to her side, and stared. It was large, life-size. Himself as he'd been just a few years before, a shock of black hair, a pale face, green eyes seeming to shine out of the painting, matching the large emerald pendant he wore on his chest. The lightning scar was clearly marked on his forehead. All dressed in white and glowing white... It was labelled 'The Child of Light.' Memories came crashing through him, not his own, but Voldemort's memories, of his predatory lust, of his mild regret that he'd had to sacrifice Bellatrix, of his wanting...

Sarah called urgently, "Dad!" and Lassiter grabbed him before he fell, sat him on a nearby chair, and ordered sharply, "Head between your knees, and pull yourself together."

Harry shook his head, and tried to pull himself together. His own memories of the event were so vague, and he was still caught up in Voldemort's memory, the boy glowing white, held firmly between the two big black Aurors, Dumbledore looking on with a benign smile, then the child lying on a platform, a chanting... The chanting was a part of his own memories; it had seemed soothing at the time, peaceful. Vanishing his clothes, that was Voldemort, but he shook his head again, that was how Voldemort had felt, not himself, and it was shortly after, and Voldemort would die.

Lassiter took a firm grip on his chin for a moment, and felt across his forehead, slick with a cold sweat. The scar was faded, and he'd refreshed the make-up over it just a few minutes before, but it was obvious to the touch and some of the make-up wiped off. Harry wrenched his face away, and Sarah said, "Father!"

Lassiter glanced at Lisa, and said lightly, "Sarah told me he was in a children's movie when he was younger. Who would have thought the poster would still be circulating?"

Lisa said, not sounding very interested, "A movie, was it? Justin gave it to us. He said it was the Child of Light, and was like a Guardian Angel, a Protector. He wanted us to make sure and display it always."

Harry was beginning to regain control of himself, and asked tentatively, "Who's Justin, Lisa?"

"Oh, Justin was my other brother, not much older than I am. He died."

"He died?"

Lisa said vaguely, "A few months ago, I think," but she was dismissive, and asked, "Are you all right now Lee? Mother's waiting." She seemed to have no curiosity about his reaction to the portrait, and hadn't even glanced at the picture herself. Instead she resumed talking about her show-jumping, that the next big event was in six weeks, and she couldn't wait, that her young horse she'd been riding that day was showing a lot of promise, and that she wanted her father to buy her a horse that Mark Lleyton had for sale.

Sarah had known Ricky when he started school at Traynor, and still had black hair, just a little longer than in the portrait. She'd known straightaway that it was him. She wished now that she hadn't called his attention to it. Even now he was pale, though he was giving a fair semblance of calm, apparently paying full attention to Lisa who was enthusiastically describing her potential new horse.

Roddy and Bradley arrived in a hurry, chided by Mrs. Finch-Fletchley for keeping them all waiting.

It was supposed to be a light lunch, but was quite formal, a full meal rather than lunch. The conversation was light and well-mannered, and no-one seemed to notice that only Roddy, of their visitors, was saying much.

Lassiter was unobtrusively studying Harry, deciding that maybe after all he was the orphan from the Home that Gayle had mentioned. He was a goodlooking boy, and in the portrait, he'd been beautiful. Dressed all in white, - Ted had shown him several pictures like that once, - evidence in a Child Procurement case. There were rumours that Judge Havendish, among others, liked young boys, and the accused had wound up with a laughably light sentence. The white would be to signify that he was virgin, though he could have been trained up to that point, - 'groomed' they called it. It was like a picture of a boy for sale, except that this one had been a life-size portrait, and had appeared as a painting of very high quality, rather than a card-sized photograph.

Sarah said in a casual tone, "There was an interesting painting in the hall..."

Joan Finch-Fletchley said vaguely, "Oh yes..."

Harry said, "Lisa said Justin gave it to you. What happened to Justin, Mrs. Finch-Fletchley?"

"Please, Lee, call me Joan." But then it seemed she'd forgotten the question as she offered around a carafe of fine wine.

Harry asked again, "Joan, did Justin die?"

"Justin? Oh yes, a while ago now," and again she was looking vague, and quite peaceful. Her husband showed no interest, and neither did Lisa or Bradley.

Lassiter was regarding her with surprise, and finally asked, "How did he die?"

It didn't need Joan's question of "Who?" to confirm Harry's opinion that she and probably all the family had had their minds interfered with.

Lassiter didn't pursue the subject, but Harry was deciding that he might investigate. He didn't think that Justin was dead. He thought he would have seen a death notice in the Daily Prophet if he had been. On the other hand, he was Muggle-born, his family had forgotten him, and maybe there had been no-one to put a notice in if he did die. Probably Hermione would know. He hadn't seen her since Sirius had put on that surprise party for his eighteenth birthday.

Only after they were home, did Lassiter say firmly, "Lee, Sarah, I want to talk to you in my office. _Now._"

Harry said mildly, "I'm having a shower and change first, and probably Sarah will want to as well."

Sarah nodded, "We'll be in the library afterward however, if you want to ask any questions."

Lassiter hesitated, remembering not only that they were adults, but that he had to be nice to Sarah. He asked, "Do _you_ know his past, Sarah?"

Sarah shrugged, "Enough," and added, "You could ask Bea to serve coffee."

Lassiter conceded, "The library."

Roddy was looking at him puzzled, and finally asked, "Is something wrong?"

Lassiter glanced at him briefly, "You're not needed."

Roddy said, "You can count on me for help, Sis, even if you _are_ pregnant."

Sarah smiled slightly, "I'm not pregnant, but thanks."

Half an hour later, and Lassiter had rethought his strategy. Instead of a stern questioning, he poured their coffees, offered them each one of the tempting cakes on offer, and then sat down in one of the arm chairs, with an air of relaxation. Only then did he say, "Well, Lee? What was that all about?"

Harry said, "I'm sorry, but I have no intention of telling you. I only ask that you do not spread it around."

"Spread _what_ around, exactly?"

"It is very much safer for me, and incidentally Sarah, if no-one knows that Lee Chase is the same as the boy in the picture."

Lassiter had expected some explanation to be offered, such as the 'film' he'd suggested, not a total refusal to talk at all. He finally said, "Such an expensive portrait would only go with a 'snuff movie,' but in those type of movies, the victim dies."

Harry said nothing, and he added, "You came very close to fainting."

"I didn't know of the picture."

"Were you really dressed up like that?"

Harry hesitated, and finally said, "I was heavily under the influence of drugs; I scarcely remember what happened. But that was the end of it. I cleared out and did not return."

"Escaped?"

"Yes."

Lassiter asked abruptly, "Were you a rent-boy?"

"No, Mr. Lassiter. I was not a rent-boy as you call it, and I have never been a prostitute, a thief or anything else disreputable that you're probably thinking."

Lassiter hesitated, thinking, took a few sips of coffee, and said quietly, "You realise that I love my daughter, and only want the best for her. I have to ask the next question. Are you diseased? Have you had a test for AIDs?"

"I am not diseased, and I have been tested."

The speculative gaze didn't leave his face, and Sarah said abruptly, "That is enough, father. Lee would never do anything to hurt me, and I love him. All we ask is that you keep very quiet about Lee and the portrait."

"Were the men punished? The ones who arranged it?"

Sarah replied, "They are very powerful men with a long reach. And they still want him. You _must_ keep quiet!"

Lassiter sighed, and said, "I will keep quiet. I know of men like that and they are rarely punished, no matter what the victim can tell police. You were fortunate to escape, Lee."

Harry was silent. His memories of that first escape quite blurry.

That evening, Sarah was urgent when she asked him to make love with her. The events of the day had reminded her that her love might not last, - that one day he might be found again. That picture... He'd looked so beautiful, and so vulnerable, - a child to be sold. He was grown now, and that air of innocence gone. She didn't think she'd ever seen him looking quite like that, and it wasn't just that the painter had surrounded him with a bright white glow, as if he was an angel.

Afterwards she lay very close, her head on his shoulder. His voice came as a surprise, "I will tell you, if you want. I always thought you would be safer untouched by it, but you are touched, and knowing can help keep you safe."

"I would like you to tell me."

"It is not a simple story."

"Tell me."

"They call me names, still do. Like the Child of Destiny, the Child of Light, the Child of Prophecy. And the Boy Who Lived. I think the first prophecy was made before I was born," and he quoted: "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches - born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

"And people took notice of this?"

"Anirage regard prophecy as a form of magic. Anirage are a subspecies of Humankind. There are differences from normal humans, most of them quite subtle. For instance, they are more resistant to infections, though more susceptible to other things like sudden and usually fatal heart attacks, and cancer. A few can live for a very long time. I know of one who was around a hundred and fifty, though I never knew his exact age."

Sarah asked, "And you are Anirage? Like a religion?"

"A bit more than a religion, and I didn't know until I was eleven. The Dark Lord spoken of in the prophecy decided that the baby who fitted the Prophecy should die. My father died first, after a fight, and then my mother who refused to move aside so he could kill the baby. She wasn't intended to die, but she did. So then he aimed his Death Curse at the baby, but it rebounded, and Voldemort vanished. Somehow he was stripped from his body which incidentally also vanished, though it doesn't quite make sense, but he wasn't dead. The baby was left with a bleeding scar on his forehead, and no doubt bellowing loudly, and that is how I became the Boy Who Lived, credited with the defeat of the very powerful wizard known as the Dark Lord."

"A wizard!"

"Anirage, Ani and Ania, wizards and witches. I am Anirage, Sarah, not quite the same as an ordinary human."

"A wizard. Magic?"

"Magic." He knew this was where he'd probably lose her, and when she didn't say anything, continued anyway. He wanted to tell her now. There were too many things he'd kept secret for too long.

"I was raised by my mother's sister and her husband, who were ordinary people, and loathed the Freak that had been dumped on them. When I was eleven, a man turned up, told me I was a wizard, told me I was to attend a School of Magic, and took me shopping for things like spellbooks and a wand. For the next few years I attended this boarding school, only with my aunt and uncle for the long Summer holidays. The headmaster of the school was called Albus Dumbledore. He was regarded as the Leader of the Light, as he'd always fought Dark Wizards."

Sarah's voice was almost light, "These Anirage were great ones for labels, weren't they?"

Harry laughed suddenly, and agreed, "They are. Voldemort's real name was Tom Riddle, but he called himself Lord Voldemort, and because he was so fearsome, everyone aside from his followers called him ridiculous things like 'You Know Who.' It was regarded as a breach of courtesy to actually say his name."

"Did he have many followers?"

"Hundreds. They were called Death Eaters."

"Very fearsome!"

She spoke lightly again, but Harry was sober, "Some were very much to be feared. Voldemort didn't hesitate to use murder and torture to achieve his goals."

"His goals were?"

"The more complete separation of Anirage from other people. Anirage are a very small minority. They were nearly wiped out before, - the witch burnings of the Middle Ages, - many of those victims actually _were_ witches. That was the most recent Holocaust. These days we stay very secret. There is a spell that is used on ordinary people who accidentally observe magic, which makes them forget. Charms that make it so ordinary people don't notice things, other tactics. It is vitally important that we stay a myth, like that a witch is a mad old crone with a black cat, for instance. It's for that reason that many witches, especially the older ones, prefer the term Ania. Wizards are Ani, but seldom call themselves anything but wizards. Voldemort was adamant against Anirage and ordinary people marrying, and hated the offspring of these matches, Half-bloods. He also hated what is known as Muggle-borns, that is wizard babies born to ordinary people. Justin Finch-Fletchley was a Muggle-born wizard. He was in my year at school. His family seems to have almost forgotten he existed."

"I thought that was very odd, but if he was their son... Bereaved families can react in strange ways sometimes."

"And mostly people would be too tactful to probe. I think probably Justin is alive, but thinks it more prudent that he drop contact with his family. It can be very hard for a Muggle-born wizard, or a Muggle-raised one for that matter, as I was."

"Muggle is the word for ordinary people? It sounds contemptuous."

"It is. Wizards think Muggles infinitely far beneath them. Some said that Voldemort wanted to exterminate Muggles altogether or maybe have them as slaves, but he was never that stupid. Five billion Muggles, about seventeen thousand Anirage."

"Hypnosis could have made the Finch-Fletchleys react like that."

"Maybe, but I'd say it was the Obliviation spell. I've seen that used. It's supposed to be strictly regulated, but no-one cares much about Muggles."

"Muggles! Even not quite believing you about magic, that word makes me angry."

"Do you want me to go on? Or would you prefer simply to think me a little deranged."

"I don't know what to think, but you don't seem deranged."

"Right. So Voldemort was gone, and no-one knew where he was, but many thought he was not gone forever. Dumbledore was sure he would come back, and he had the 'Boy Who Lived,' who was supposed to have the power to defeat him. Instead of ensuring my safety over the next few years, I was subtly encouraged to face danger myself, rather than relying on adults to save me. That I was so badly treated by my relatives may even have been part of his plan, to have his tame warrior ready to lay down his life for everyone else. They had beaten it into me that deep down I was worthless, you see."

"Couldn't you have defended yourself using magic?"

"I don't recall ever using it against my relatives; I don't know why. There is such a thing as accidental magic that children can use, but by definition, it is not deliberate, and seldom achieves what needs to be achieved."

"But once you were taught how to use it?"

"It's illegal for underage wizards, and not supposed to be used on Muggles in any case. But anyway, by then they hardly ever hurt me, a shove now and then, and sometimes depriving me of food, but I was adept at stealing while cooking the meals, and if I was good they let me eat with them. I was still underfed, but it wasn't worth the consequences of using magic out of school. I was still in love with magic, you see. I hadn't grown up with it, and things surprised and thrilled me. Like stepping into a tiny tent, and finding a small flat."

Sarah said scathingly, "That defies all the laws of physics! I admit that some things thought of as magic might be possible, but not fitting a large space into a smaller one."

Harry ignored the comment, only going on: "Near the end of fourth year, Voldemort had some help, and they got hold of me. I was to be an ingredient in the spell that would manufacture a body for him." He frowned, and said slowly, trying to remember, "_Bone of the father, unknowingly given_, and that was a bit of bone from his father's grave, and_ flesh of the servant, willingly given_, - that was horrible. His servant actually cut off his own hand, and dropped it into the cauldron. And then _blood of the enemy, forcibly taken_. That was my blood, but at least just a deep cut on my arm. And then this hideous deformed thing that was Voldemort was put into an enormous cauldron, and after a lot of splashing, and more chanting from the servant, this tall thing stood up out of the cauldron, and became an apparently normal human body, rather tall and thin, though with a face that was abnormal. No nose, and with red eyes. Voldemort had come back."

Sarah was silent, and Harry just stared at the ceiling as he continued. "He tried to kill me and I escaped again, it appeared by sheer luck, but maybe there was some magic going on. Voldemort became very active, recruiting Death Eaters, taking out certain enemies, sending out his followers to spread fear by use of torture. Several Muggle-borns were killed, and their families. His reason was that every Muggle who knows about magic adds to the risk of a war between the species. Such a war would be catastrophic for Anirage, but would also mean the deaths of many thousands of Muggles. Voldemort thought that our government was far too lax about that."

"Government?"

"We have our own governing body, our own newspapers, our own culture. When among our own kind, we wear robes. Mature wizards wear their hair long, wizards who regard themselves as Elders like to wear long beards."

"Like in the fantasy novels."

"Much of what you think of as myths and legends are based on reality. Dumbledore was revered. He had very long white hair, long white beard, and wore rather colourful robes."

"And then what?"

"You're not believing me, are you?"

"I want to hear how the story turns out."

"Another prophecy. _Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall... Victory this year... A Sacrifice... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Betrayed by his friends, hurt by his enemy. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh... When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. Shame for the Side of Light... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken... The Child of Light lost and broken... _

_ "_Dumbledore saw the end of the war in sight, and was willing to sacrifice me without a moment's hesitation. The magic of the Rite of Cerlikh is that the magical power flows to the dominant during an act of sex, which would have made Voldemort even more powerful than he was. I had a higher than normal inherent power to begin with, and also I was significant because of being the Boy Who Lived and all that. There were all sorts of other ingredients needed, but that's the essence of it. Voldemort was tricked into thinking that a prophecy stated that he would win if he did this, and _reign a thousand years. _I was handed over to him, weak from an induced illness, and under the influence of potions so I scarcely knew what was happening.

"He started to have sex with me. I didn't resist, didn't know who it was, but then there was something else happening. He was stealing from me, stealing something vitally important, or that is how I remember it. I revolted then, and he was thrown off, and was dead. His Death Eaters were linked to him by a magical mark on their forearms. When I killed Voldemort, another three hundred and seventeen men and women, mostly men, died at the same time. I walked away, meeting no opposition and kept on walking until I was found by Muggle authorities and wound up at Kreighley."

He had become hoarse. Sarah kissed him, and asked if he wanted to get up for a bit. They'd have some hot chocolate, and then maybe he could finish it.

"I told you it was a long story."

"I once saw you shave without using a razor. I thought at the time I'd just imagined it or something. And then that picture, and the reactions of the Finch-Fletchleys... I guess I believe it, magic's real, you're an Aniragi wizard, and right now you need something for a sore throat." She also thought he needed something to calm down, - the bitterness in his voice when he spoke of being the sacrifice, and the horror when he said how many died... But shouldn't he have been a hero? If he'd defeated the feared so-called _Dark Lord?_ Why was he terrified of being found?

She spoke about other things for a while as they drank the soothing drink, - her pleasure in horse-riding, which she hadn't done for some years, that her father had offered to take them to London for a show that was in demand, "He says he can get tickets." And then she started talking about the Kreighley boys at school. "I've noticed that sometimes when they first arrive, they look almost like wild animals, ready in an instant to fight or run away."

"Most of us who wind up at Kreighley come from poor homes. Dan's an exception, just that his family were killed in a car accident. Jason's more typical, and Chris."

Sarah said, "When I first saw you, you looked tiny. And just a week or so later, you were fighting the biggest boy in the class."

"And beat him. He was picking on me, so I didn't wait. I took him on, and had no more trouble from anyone at school for ages. I had a fight with Chris, too, not long after I arrived."

"How did you get to be such a good fighter? Are Anirage so violent?"

"Not usually with fists. Fighting with fists is regarded as beneath them, - _Muggle!"_

"So how did you get to be such a good fighter?"

"Fighting my guards a bit later. What happened was that even before I started going to school, they came for me. I didn't want anything to do with wizards ever again, and I ran, then Ross arranged for me to stay somewhere hidden. I went to sleep just a few nights later, and woke up at the school, in the hospital wing. Maybe I was a little bit lost and broken as the prophecy said, and maybe my magic was unstable as well, after that experience with Voldemort. I didn't hurt anyone, but even without my wand, I put on a bit of a performance. I assume they stunned me..."

Sarah interrupted, "Stunned?"

"With a spell. A standard stun spell renders you unconscious for around a half hour. I still wasn't behaving myself, though at least I had the wit not to attack anyone with magic..." He grinned slightly, "I gave Dumbledore a black eye though." He looked down. He still boiled with rage when he thought about the Binding Bracelets. But she wouldn't understand if he skipped mention of them. He asked, "Are you believing all this?"

Sarah said gently, "I am believing all this."

"I'm surprised. Not many people are willing to believe in magic."

"I believe in you. If you tell me, I believe me."

Harry raised his hand, and the plate of cakes hovered above the table. He said, "I don't need a wand these days, but I'm an exception. Only a very few wizards can do more than maybe extinguish a candle without a wand."

Sarah was staring, "Maybe I didn't quite believe it! I thought I did."

Harry suddenly dashed the plate to the ground, leaving the remaining cakes hovering, muttered "_Reparo,"_ the plate appeared to fix itself, _"Scourgify,"_ and it was clean, then he put it back on the table, and replaced the remaining cakes. "Magic can be very useful. You can see why I was enthralled with it to begin with. I still am a bit, but the world of wizards is not a kind one, not a civilised world. I have chosen not to return, but there are those who are unwilling to allow me to make that choice."

Sarah asked softly, "What happened when you would not behave."

Harry looked down at his wrists, and one hand almost unconsciously started rubbing the opposite wrist. "Binding Bracelets were used. They mean the victim cannot access their magic. They are a Dark Artefact, illegal, so Dumbledore must have been given special permission to use them. They hurt me, all the time, though they kept telling me they didn't cause pain, and if only I behaved myself, they'd be taken off. But they took my glasses, so I couldn't see, and they forced potions on me, morning and night. I was terrified of potions, because of before, you see? They'd been used to make me sick, and then I was kept nice and calm while they handed me over to Voldemort.

"There were calming potions, compliance potions, sleeping potions, and every time I'd fight. Two guards on me all the time, fully qualified Aurors, big men, so you see I had plenty of practice at fighting. When I think about it, they mostly did the best they could. They didn't use spells to make it easier for themselves, and they tried not to hurt me, while I did my best to hurt them. After a few weeks of that, my fighting skills had improved considerably. I was probably lucky I wasn't disposed of, but after all, I hadn't really done anything wrong.

"One night there was a big dinner, and both Dumbledore and I were given a big award for defeating Voldemort. But they'd given me an overdose, trying to ensure I'd behave. I nearly died that night. Coincidentally, Dumbledore did die, a heart attack they thought, and things improved. I tried to behave better, and it was easier because they were no longer making me take potions. Then they apparently decided I was safe enough to take off the Binding Bracelets, but they couldn't take them off, and that's when it was realised that Dumbledore had changed the spells. They were designed not just to Bind my magic, but to destroy it. It was why they hurt so much."

"This Dumbledore. You say he was the Leader of the Light, which implies the good guy. Yet he sounds no better than this Dark Lord."

"Magic can do a lot of things. Someone told me later that he used Mind-Magic, so people would believe him when he told them things, and would look up to him. My best friends, they helped him do it to me, but Snape said he tricked them, that they thought they were helping."

"Snape?"

"He was Dumbledore's right-hand man, and always seemed to despise me. Yet afterwards, he helped me."

"You must have escaped in the end."

"There was a bit of a fight, during which my guards were taken down, I knew I'd be blamed for it, so I ran out into the night. I was so _angry!_ The Bracelets hurt so much, and I sort of screamed at them, and their magic broke. I was unconscious for a bit, and when I came around, my magic worked for me again. I could even apparate, and the whole of the school and its grounds have anti-apparation magic."

"Apparation?"

Harry stood, vanished from the spot where he stood, and reappeared on the other side of the room, "Instant travel. Another supremely useful skill."

Sarah was still blinking, "I can imagine!"

"I arranged things so it appeared I was dead. Then I left, thinking never ever to return. They'd done too much to me, put me through too much pain. I found a good home at Kreighley. I gave a false name, false birthdate, I'm actually only a few months younger than you, not a whole year younger. Born as the seventh month dies, remember. My birthday is on the 31st July."

"Your real name?"

"My birth name is Harry James Potter."

"This time last year you vanished for several weeks."

"I went back when I was seventeen to claim my inheritance, and then Snape helped me get my eyes fixed. It was a wizard Healer, not laser therapy. I was beginning to think then that maybe the wizarding world was not so bad, maybe I could go back. In early January, I showed myself in the wizarding area in order to collect a false birth certificate I needed to satisfy Ross's boss. She was threatening that I couldn't stay. I hoped they'd ignore me. I still wore the Binding Bracelets, and that showed that I had no magic, and therefore was no threat to anyone. Someone tried to kill me, and I killed them, but I killed with a knife, so my cover as a defenceless Muggle was intact. Self-defence with witnesses, so no-one punished me, but I was quite badly hurt, an injury that could not be seen by Muggles. He'd vanished my right thigh bone you see, and how could you possibly account for that without magic?"

Sarah took his hand, kneading, trying to follow the incredible story. A vanished bone? And he'd killed someone, deliberately killed someone. But he was a _good_ person, she knew that. He was a fighter, she knew that too, but he never started fights. He was not aggressive

"They took me to the wizard hospital, but I was in danger. I expected that some might try and kill me. So many dead, and many blamed me. Remember there are only about six thousand Anirage in Britain, and what they called the Cerlikh Catastrophe accounted for around 10% of the adult male population. It would have touched every Aniragi family, friends if not family. Some families were almost wiped out, and family is very important in Aniragi culture.

"But there was another danger that I hadn't even thought of until then. There was a man who decided that since I was now a Muggle, if he chose, he could have me as a slave. I'd been Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the boy whom Voldemort had had. That some wizards keep Muggle slaves for sex was seldom spoken of."

He glanced timidly at Sarah, and told her, "I killed the first one in self-defence. He was aiming his wand, preparing to kill me. This one was self-defence too, but I made it so that he seemed to have a heart attack. It was in front of witnesses, and I was lying helpless in bed, and they thought heavily sedated, so no-one thought I could possibly have had anything to do with it. I'm a killer, Sarah. I killed Scrimgeour to be free, and another after that, so I could live free. Self-defence would not be admissible under Muggle or wizard law for those last two."

He was looking down, afraid of her judgement, afraid of losing her. Her arm went around him, and she said softly, "You may have killed, but that does not make you bad. You are not a killer, Lee."

"Sometimes I think it would be better for the world if there were no Anirage. I don't think anyone else can do spells without any indication they're doing so, but I can. When I was being inspected with an eye to selling me to the highest bidder, not that they ever actually told me that was what it was, I made a few of them sterile, some even impotent through a type of castration. At least those ones will never be in a position to rape me."

"If you can do things like that... And you tell me you're a very powerful wizard. Aren't you exaggerating the danger?"

"I find it hard to remember I'm a powerful wizard. And anyway, no matter how powerful, one can be defeated, maybe simply by attacking without warning. I could be in a slave collar before I know I'm in danger. Slave collars have enchantments, spells that punish with pain if the master is displeased, but also some have spells that make the slave desperate to please his master, or in love with his master, so I won't want to escape. My best protection is that they have no idea that I still have magic. It is likely I can simply apparate away from a dangerous situation, but it's a lot better if I can escape using only Muggle means. It's why nearly every day, I practise throwing my knife. It's why I keep up lessons and practice in self-defence, and it's why I make a habit of running every morning, working on both speed and endurance."

Sarah kissed him, and said, quite lightly, "I sometimes think I should run with you, but I don't like running. My legs are too short, and my boobs bounce too much. I don't think I'm made for it."

Harry caressed one of the said 'boobs' and said, "If I wasn't in love with all of you, I could love you for your breasts alone. You are lovely, Sarah. Just maybe not made for running."

"Come to bed? It's very late."

***chapter end***


	3. Chapter 3

_**Note that this book is third in the Sacrifice series, after 'Sacrifice for the Side of Light,' and 'Demter Guardian.'**_

_Reminder of terms used__: Anirage means Wizardkind, and the 'Vanie' are something like 'lords.' 'The Vanie' is the hereditary head of the Vanie family. He is sometimes titled 'Van', as in 'Van Malfoy.' _

_Characters__: Jason and Daniel have also been adopted by James and Vera Chase, so are Harry's brothers. __Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 3: **_

Sarah woke early in the morning after restless dreams of magic, powerful wizards, and hideous witches cackling over cauldrons of 'potions.' She slipped quietly out of bed, not disturbing Lee, - Harry, Harry James Potter, he'd said his real name was. It had seemed different in the middle of the night, she'd been willing to believe him then even before that demonstration. Now it was day, it was hard to believe, even knowing it had to be true. _Could_ she have been dreaming? Maybe the whole thing?

She was quiet, abstracted, and scarcely noticed when her father entered the room, walking stiffly and sitting with a grimace of pain. Bea had set the table as usual, but breakfast was never a formal meal, as Lassiter liked to read the paper over breakfast. He quietly helped himself to coffee and toast, and asked, "Did he tell you something last night?" At her questioning look, he added, "I heard voices in the middle of the night."

Sarah nodded, "He told me."

"Is it as I thought?"

"A different boy would not have fought and escaped. He's a man to be admired, Father."

"Maybe he is, and maybe you would be better off finding a respectable young man from a good family."

"Respectable young men from good families don't look at me. In any case, they are mostly quite boring. I need someone who doesn't look at me suspiciously when I use what they deem _long words!"_

Lassiter gave a crack of laughter and admitted, "I have that problem myself."

"Lee was still sleeping. I thought I'd let him sleep. I don't think he's told anyone else, ever."

"Will you tell me?"

"No, Father. I will not tell you."

"I have caught hints sometimes of a market in boys, young girls as well of course. In my profession, you get to hear something of what happens beneath the surface. Children traded around, mostly children whom nobody cares about. And a lot darker, the snuff movies. How anyone can get a thrill out of seeing a child tortured to death I will never understand. There is no defence for such people."

Sarah was silent. It hadn't been a snuff movie, but she certainly wasn't going to tell her father what it was. The Child of Light. It was obvious that some wizards didn't think Lee was an enemy if they wanted his portrait in their homes. What had Lisa said, that he was like a Guardian Angel?

When Harry appeared at the breakfast table, late, his eyes immediately went to Sarah. He'd told her, and now... Was she going to be afraid of him? Or maybe scorn him because he'd been the target of men's lusts? But she'd already known or suspected that. He hadn't even denied it that second time, not when it stopped people searching further for the full truth. Sarah gave him a reassuring smile, and asked whether he'd like her to make some toast for him. He gave a sigh of relief before greeting Mr. Lassiter, Roddy and Aimee, who were also at the table.

Lassiter greeted him civilly, and asked if he and Sarah fancied a scenic drive, and maybe lunch at a restaurant next to the river. It seemed that Sarah's father wasn't condemning him either, though he must realise he'd had an unusual past. Instead he started asking about his ultimate ambitions, and Harry replied that he was unsure, but it was a four year course, including an obligatory year spent in a foreign country. When asked where, he replied, "France, I think." He had property in France, including a sea-side villa, currently used for short-term Summer rentals.

_hphphhp_

Hermione Granger was also visiting. She was at the ancestral home of the Carlyles. Vayden Carlyle was her boyfriend, though she'd learned that the Pure-bloods she was moving amongst would not use a word so plebeian. Vayden was a decent man, she thought, a year older than herself, though there were still things that surprised her about his family. Luckily it was Linley, Vayden's older brother, who was in line as head of the family, or she would not have any hope of becoming Vayden's wife. He wanted her, or so he said, and she wanted him. It was only as the wife of an influential man that she could have any influence on her world. There were so many things wrong with the wizarding world, - its corruption, its complacency, its sheer ignorance when it came to all things Muggle, and its lack of morality when it came to its dealings with Muggles. Admittedly, things had improved under Amelia Bones as Minister for Magic, but it was a slow and reluctant change.

The Carlyles were all together, three generations, old Reginald, the current Vanie, (or Lord, as she thought of it,) Tonius, who was Vayden's father and the heir, and then Vayden's older brother, Linley. There were assorted wives and a few other relatives, most of whom took little notice of her, though Linley's wife was friendly. Vayden's mother scarcely tried to hide her contempt. Hermione was becoming accustomed to this attitude. They didn't openly call her Mudblood as Draco Malfoy had once, but the attitude was certainly there. Hermione was stubborn. She _would_ be accepted as an equal. She knew she was clever, she knew she had a lot to contribute. They just had to give her the chance.

One of Vayden's cousins approached her, made a little casual conversation, and then asked in a casual voice, "What's Harry Potter doing now, Hermione? Vayden said you were his friend."

"Last I heard he was travelling. He said he didn't plan to stay in England. He thinks he's still in danger, you see."

"Nonsense. He's Protected. No-one will dare to attack him."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously and said nothing. Vayden had suggested that if she saw Harry to warn him that it would be best if he left Britain for good.

Schapelle, Linley's wife, said sadly, "It's such a shame. When I was little, my mother used to read me stories about the little Boy Who Lived."

Vayden said, "He never seemed very extraordinary, or not until the Triwizard Tournament."

Schapelle asked, "What was he really like, Hermione?"

"He never put himself forward like you'd expect of someone famous, he was a loyal friend, and very brave."

"My governess said I'd probably be disappointed with him."

"Maybe you would have been. He was always the smallest in our year, and he wore hideous glasses. It was only when he took off his glasses that you could see he was actually quite goodlooking."

"At home, Mother has one of those posters."

"If you're talking about the 'Child of Light' poster, I've heard of them. He'd hate that!"

Ancient Reginald Carlyle, the Vanie, glanced at his son Tonius, who'd studied the poster and said that it was no wonder the Dark Lord had been tempted. Tonius wasn't likely to try for him if he became available, but he knew several who would. The boy had no more power than a Muggle now, thanks to old Dumbledore, so was no threat. And what a satisfaction it would be to have the boy as a slave, the one who'd defeated the most powerful Dark Lord in generations! It would add a thrill to the use. He was a bit old himself, and Virility Potions were risky for very old men. It was rumoured that Dumbledore had died because he'd taken a Virility Potion.

The wife of Tonius commented, "I've heard it's become the fashion among Muggle-borns to have it displayed in their front foyer, as if it might give them some protection."

Hermione concealed her acute dislike, and gave her a false smile, "He's their hero, and so he should be. The Muggle-born and their families were under enormous threat when Voldemort was alive."

Julia Carlyle gave a delicate shudder at the sound of the dreaded name, and turned the talk to the new clothier who'd set up shop in Diagon Alley, "She has a real talent for it."

The talk continued. Hermione had made an error in defending Harry, as well as in speaking Voldemort's name. She tried very hard to make no more, but sometimes it seemed she just didn't know the rules here, no matter how many books she read.

Not long before Vayden was to take her home, he said that they were to see his father in his office. Tonius was grave, and spent ten minutes first explaining the importance of the Vanie in Aniragi society, the importance of Family, and the importance of maintaining the culture of their ancestors. Hermione was quiet and respectful, her angry arguments only inside her own head.

Tonius leaned forward, steepling his hands in a gesture that emphasized his seriousness. "You are Muggle-born. Normally I would not have considered allowing a Muggle-born to marry into my family, but in your case, your true sire is known."

"It is?" exclaimed Hermione.

Tonius said sternly, "Do not interrupt."

Hermione closed her lips firmly, not presuming to say that her own paternity was of some interest to herself as well as to Vayden's family.

Tonius continued. "The Dumbledore family was very much respected in the past, but Albus disgraced the name when he made a practice of raping Muggle women and leaving them pregnant. In his conceit, he left a list, of children, grand-children, even great grand-children. You are one of those children, though probably one of the last. No matter his faults, he was of good family. But your mother was Muggle. I don't want Muggle blood in my descendants. You may marry Vayden as the second of two brides, and on the condition that you consent to be sterilised. I must witness the sterilisation spell."

Hermione concealed her utter fury and disbelief. She _was_ worthy. It was the hypocritical bastard Pure-bloods and their society that needed improving. She so desperately wanted to make a difference, but to lose the chance of having children? He'd said sterilisation, which was irreversible. It didn't sound as if he might be content with anti-conception spells. She rose to her feet and inclined her head with dignity. "I will consider your offer."

Tonius nodded to her, reluctantly admiring the young woman's poise. He hoped she'd decline, but Vayden had insisted that he wanted her, and after all, it was Linley who was the heir. But still, the thought of having grandchildren who were mere Half-bloods disgusted him. Every time Aniragi blood was diluted, it was a weakening. Any time Muggle culture was allowed to permeate Aniragi culture, it was tainted. The old customs might appear cruel at times, but they were vitally important to keep them strong. He did not want Miss Granger in the family.

_hphphhp_

Tremaine Lassiter went to quite a lot of trouble over the next days to ensure his guests were fully entertained. Sarah had always admired him. He may have been arrogant, supercilious sometimes, he seldom bothered visiting his parents, never bothered with his two sisters, but he'd managed to achieve an important position by brain-power alone. This was the first time he'd treated her as if he thought she was important. Lee as well. He showed him respect, as he seldom showed young men respect. And he didn't question. She was sure that Lee was grateful that he didn't question him.

Harry was grateful, and a little surprised. Lassiter did ask him about his earlier life when he found him alone. "I presume you _are_ the same as the boy from the Home?"

"I'm an orphan, I arrived at Kreighley when I was thirteen, and was adopted by the Chases less than a year ago."

"Sarah said that powerful men were still after you."

"There have been enquiries at all the Boys' Homes. I'd thought I was too old to be adopted, but then there was someone visit whom I knew from before. The other boys covered for me, and he didn't find me. I accepted the offer of adoption from the Chases, and haven't been back since."

"And the Chases? How do you get on with them?"

Harry smiled warmly, "They are wonderful. I was a baby when I lost my real parents, but the feeling of someone caring... They are like real parents must be."

"Just exactly how old were you when you lost your real parents then?"

"Fifteen months."

Lassiter nodded, "There's a theory that if a child has caring parents up until the age of twelve months, then he will not be irreparably damaged by deprivation later in life."

Harry was silent. He wasn't at all sure he hadn't been irreparably damaged. Lassiter said lightly, "This show tonight. Looking forward to it?"

"Very much. Sarah has another new dress to wear. Aimee helped her choose." Aimee was carefree on the surface, loved helping Sarah and Harry shop for new clothes, and had confided to Sarah that she'd decided to leave him before she was dumped, and with a brave smile, had said, 'Better for the image, don't you know?'

Harry hadn't been to the Manor since before Christmas, though he normally made a point of visiting two or three times a week to check the wizard newspapers. But there hadn't been anything to disturb him for a long time. His other world was beginning to seem far away again, almost irrelevant. In private, Harry told Sarah more about the other life he'd lived for just four years and a few months, especially about Quidditch that he'd so loved. Told her of Snape and his snarkiness, but then he'd become a 'Demter Guardian,' had even signed a note 'Protector' once, though it had been Harry who'd first used the word. He showed her more magic, conjuring things for her, including a knife. He was very good at instantly conjuring a sharp knife, and usually wore a knife-sheath on his belt. It was better not to actually carry a knife, as that was illegal in Britain. If he had to conjure one for use, a wizard would assume he'd already been wearing it.

When he returned to the Chases on New Year's Eve for their annual party, he wondered again what he should tell them. Maybe he should tell them all, Dan and Jason as well.

It was not long since Jason had been given his camera, but already he had a photograph album that was to be purely to contain pictures of his new family, the Chases. He had to show Harry the moment he arrived, and then Harry was occupied for a half hour posing for him, - in the pool, in his running gear, even in his best suit. Dan watched with a grin, explaining that the rest of them had already been through it.

Once he was finally satisfied, Jason said, "I'll show you the Kreighley album now," but Vera interrupted, "After lunch, if you don't mind, Jason."

Jason said quickly, "Yes Aunty Vera, of course. After lunch." And then he turned to Harry again, "I'm going to be a professional photographer, did I tell you?"

"Only three times, Jase."

Jason laughed, abashed, and asked, "Do you think I'll be able to?"

"Don't you always get top marks in Art? And the photos you've taken. They look like you've been doing it for years, not just a few days."

Harry felt himself unexpectedly homesick when he looked over the Kreighley album. This album was completed, laid out artistically, the boys labelled. He'd known them all, Ethan, Stephen, Nick, Vincent, Jerry and Zack Bates, Tim. On one he hesitated, and queried, "Mikey?"

"He's grown really fast, but it's like his legs are a man's and his chest still a boy. He looks awkward, has godawful pimples, and doesn't bother being dirty now. I reckon he thinks no man will want him any more. And you have to call him Mike. Anyone calling him Mikey gets a fist in the face, he says."

"How's Lionel getting on?"

"He seemed fine, and he liked me taking a photo of him in his shed, remember the one you had to paint because you got drunk? He says it's his now, and he has his own tools there."

Harry turned the page, and saw Ross Davies smiling at him. He asked, "Adam still there?"

"I don't think so. There's a new assistant, but Nick told me they're going to get rid of him. He says he's not to be trusted."

"Does Ross take notice of Nick?"

"How would I know? I don't live there any more, remember?"

Vera Chase had been watching her sons, enjoying the interaction between them. She'd been warned by the social worker that there would be rivalry between them, but so far, she had seen very little. Lee was the elder brother, and treated as such by Dan and Jason. Dan and Jason had wrestling matches now and then, but the trials of strength were always just that, Jason just so grateful to have been given a home and family that he would do anything for them. She'd had hardly any trouble from any of them so far; she suspected that even Jason's occasional stealing might have ceased. All his pocket money went on film these days.

_hphphhp_

It was not until the following Monday that Harry had a chance to take Sarah to Potter Manor. He showed her over the well-kept, luxurious home, and introduced her to the house-elves, Bandehm and Tigsni, and the two Elflings, knowing their names, but never able to tell them apart. He'd previously explained to her about house-elves, thinking there was no purpose in having her make them uncomfortable, as Hermione had done to the Hogwarts house-elves. They walked over the neglected land, and he said, "There's 3,458 acres, all magically hidden from other wizards. That is, even when they know it must exist, they forget about it, and can't find it. I can get mail, but it nearly always goes by the Exchange Post office, which handles mail to and from Muggles as well as wizards."

"They do use normal post, though?"

Harry reddened, - it really was utterly ridiculous, though it had seemed like yet another wonder in the beginning, "They have trained owls carry it."

Sarah stared at him as if he was mad, "Owls?"

"Owls. Not ordinary owls, but ones bred and trained for the task. They have some magic as well."

"Maybe it's like genetic modification. Maybe it's been done to house-elves as well."

"I think it likely. Tigsni told me a story last year, trying to cheer me up. It was when I was hidden here, still with a weak leg, bored, scared and miserable. That once there was a very bad clan of elves, who went to war with wizards. They were defeated, and the merciful and oh so great Wizard Moyitjain, (her words not mine) changed them. From then on it was utmost happiness simply to serve their family of wizards. She finished by trying to encourage me to bring a wife home, so there would be baby wizards for her to look after. She said they were only happy when they were working for their family."

"Their family?"

"House-elves are not numerous, but most of the old families have some."

"That land out there. You say it's hidden, but surely if a wizard happened to go by in a car or something, the long grass would make it conspicuous. Maybe you should talk to your neighbours who might like to put livestock on it, or crop it. It would blend in better."

"That would probably be safe enough. The garden's a problem though, and maybe I should go through the house, and conceal the signs of magic. I won't sell the place. Not only is it too valuable as a hiding place, it's a part of my heritage. There are other properties, but they're rented to Muggles, - ordinary people I mean, just as an investment." He had to remember to avoid the term 'Muggle.' Sarah hated it, and he didn't blame her. It was the _sound_ of the word, making a Muggle sound like a fumbling bumbling fool. It carried more meaning than merely being a term for a human not Anirage.

Sarah glanced at the pile of newspapers and magazines waiting for him to check over, and said, "I'll leave you to it, have another look around the orchard maybe."

Harry nodded and picked up the first of the newspapers.

_hphphhp_

Draco Malfoy checked his copy of the day's newspaper to make sure the notice of his Engagement Contract was correctly entered. Miss Marie Bowen, the second of the two daughters of the Bowen Vanie, and by far the more attractive one. It was an excellent match, and would take place when she finished the school year. Importantly, she was from a family with a reputation for fertility. Draco was sure his father would return to haunt him if he didn't manage to sire an heir, and preferably two or three. Otherwise a distant cousin would inherit, not just the wealth, but the title of Vanie. Draco very much liked being _Van_ Draco Malfoy, with the influence that came with it. That his father had died as a Death Eater had not counted against him. So many had died. Pure-blood society had been devastated. He didn't think anyone had quite realised just how far Voldemort had sunk his tentacles.

The notice was there, correctly entered. He noticed a page he normally ignored, and suddenly curious, he turned to it. His father had always maintained that it could give valuable hints, and he grinned as he noticed the first. _The Bones are not pure. Tainted leadership will lead to the destruction of Anirage._ It was fairly obvious what was behind that. The recent toughening of laws regarding interference with Muggles had left more than a few quite disgruntled, but whoever it was, he could have been more subtle about it. The name of the Seer was always attached, but sometimes it was obviously an assumed name. This was signed Marvolo Pentus.

_'The Rolling Ball, it travels on, it knows not where it stops. The Rolling Ball that no-one sees, a Lady White and Blue. She stops the ball, and when it stops, it rots, it's true.'_ Again there was a name that screamed false, and he thought it was probably just kids messing about.

The next one was quite elaborate,

_'The Silent One watches the little bird taken, _

_ The Protector is hot on his trail. _

_ The evil ones beg, but friendship's forsaken, _

_ The evil ones gone. Beyond the veil.'_

If it had any truth, Draco supposed it could become clear after the event. There might be the occasional gem, but most prophecies were either meaningless or frankly fake. That one was by Luna Lovegood. The Slytherins had never bothered picking on 'Loony.' Her victimisation had come from her own House, Ravenclaw.

The next, _'Beware the One Who Hides._' Really, what did that mean? In sudden impatience, he tossed the paper aside. Even if a prophecy was true, how did one know whether it had been relayed truthfully? The Dark Lord himself had been brought down by his belief in a falsified prophecy.

Luna frowned as she saw Granny Abbot's _'Beware the One Who Hides.'_ She'd been having repeated dreams herself of the 'One Who Hides.' His face was always obscured, but she always woke feeling unhappy. But surely just one man could not much hurt them. She wondered if he could be the same as the 'sleeping dragon,' that had been the subject of repeated prophecies only about six months before. The words identifying 'the sleeping dragon' had come from herself, though she regretted it now, - _He was the Marked Child of Light, but now he sleeps. Beware the sleeping dragon, lest he awaken and bring darkness to us all. _Luckily no-one had taken the slightest notice of her.

And as for Harry, she hardly thought he'd have the power to bring darkness. And if he did, could he have some excuse? Voldemort could never have become so powerful without a lot of support. In many ways, the wizarding world _was_ corrupt. It had shocked her very much when she'd discovered her father was gleefully enjoying the boy slave he'd inherited, along with the bigger house and considerable wealth. When she'd spoken of the immorality of keeping a Muggle as a slave, not to mention the possible prison term, he'd explained that the boy had been magically castrated, a change which could not be explained to Muggles. That the only alternative to keeping him was to have him put down. And besides, the Aurors were only prosecuting those who took _new_ slaves, or had them disposed of. Otherwise, as long as you were not too cruel, no-one cared.

Luna had idolised her father for years. She saw him with clearer eyes now, but still cared for him. She kept quiet about his slave, but she didn't like it. The boy eunuch hadn't seemed unhappy. He was only a Muggle of course, a different species.

She wrote her prophecy for the week, _Cursed are the curs who keep slaves. They shall be punished_. It was not a true prophecy, but she thought it could come true. Those true prophecies that came to her sometimes, ringing in her ears in a harsh voice of something else... She'd sent in the one about _the little bird taken_, but so many of them spoke of dark times to come. She no longer reported those. What was the point?

Harry never looked at the regular Monday's page of reported prophecies. He didn't like prophecies, whether they had some truth in them or not.

***chapter end***


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 4: **_

At the end of January, a pressing invitation came to Harry inviting him to the Naming Ceremony for the babies of Mary and of Narcissa, wives of Sirius Black. Narcissa's baby had been born first, which made him the Black heir. Mary's baby was just two days younger, a second boy. Sirius was thrilled, and his excitement bubbled over in the letter he'd written. With it was a more sober letter from Narcissa, assuring him that it was to be only a very small family gathering, her sister Andromeda and her husband, her niece Nymphadora, and her husband, Remus Lupin. There was also to be her own son, Draco. She'd added, _'I have forbidden Sirius to invite __a single other person__.'_

Remus Lupin. Lupin was supposed to have been his father's close friend, one of the so-called 'Marauders.' Now he was older, Harry wondered just how harmless the Marauders' mischief had been. Both Remus and Sirius had told him of some of their 'pranks.' They had been funny stories to him then, but now he saw the cruelty behind many of them. Fred and George Weasley were the same. Many of their so-called pranks were not harmless fun, but acts of real cruelty. He very much wished he'd never given the Weasley twins his Triwizard winnings. There were plenty of better things he could have done with that money.

He hadn't seen Lupin since he'd been the Defence teacher in third year. He'd been good then, giving him some of his free time to teach him to protect himself against the Dementors. But maybe no student should have been exposed to Dementors in the first place. The years had made a difference to Harry's views, maybe opened his eyes. Then he'd not been worried that Lupin was a werewolf, even thinking it unfair that they should be subject to discrimination. Now he remembered the criminal carelessness that had exposed school students to a transformed werewolf.

Snape had tried to protect them then, and not a one of them had thought to be grateful. Children saw everything as so black and white, but nothing was all black or all white. Some of Voldemort's ideas had been sound, and some of Dumbledore's deeds had been dubious at best. Lupin had _forgotten_ to take a potion that had been carefully prepared for him, had chosen not to mention that Sirius was a black dog animagus, even when he'd thought him a murderer...

Harry sighed. Sirius Black was his godfather, his best source of direct information of the wizarding world. When he saw him, he found it hard _not_ to like and trust him, even with his flaws. Sirius had spoken for him at that ridiculous Hearing, when some had wanted him declared a ward of the Ministry. Sirius was a rash and sometimes foolish man, yet he was not of low intelligence. It was the time in Azkaban that had left him unstable. A sneaking thought that there was madness in the Black family was dismissed. He sent off an acceptance.

Sarah was with him at Potter manor when he prepared for the Naming Ceremony gathering. Light Muggle clothing underneath, and then the dress robes he'd chosen were laid on the bed. They were not the ones that Sirius had given him as an eighteenth birthday gift, but one set of several he'd ordered for himself. Sarah sat on the bed, watching. They'd come in her vehicle, and she planned to stay the night. She would have been quite curious to meet this godfather of Harry's, but Harry had refused to expose her to wizards. It was best if she stayed unknown, and he didn't trust Sirius's discretion. He trusted Narcissa more, the widow of a Death Eater.

He went to the mirror, and instead of concealing the faded forehead scar with make-up, he used a liner to make it just a little more prominent. Harry Potter had a scar, black hair, and glasses. Lee Chase was blonde, with no scar and no glasses. When Lee Chase went out in public, he always made a Hiding Spell, one that he'd invented himself. It was like a 'Don't Notice Me' spell, otherwise known as Cloaking Magic, but geared only for wizards. This time he was going as Harry Potter so did not use the charm. The wig of long black hair, worn loose, the glasses, and Lee Chase had become Harry Potter.

Sarah said, "The robes are beautiful." They were beautiful, but she didn't like them. He looked like a wizard now, and with an aura of power that she'd never noticed about him before. Anirage really were different. She didn't like it.

Harry went to her and kissed her, "It's still me. Just Lee or Ricky, who loves you."

Sarah smiled, and said, "Of course," but her voice was a little strained. She made an effort and said, more cheerfully, "You'd best get going."

"You'll be right here?"

"Of course, I can lose myself in that library! Your mum will love it when you show her."

"There's a supper afterward, but I expect I'll be home quite early."

_hphphp_

He was welcomed exuberantly by Sirius, who then indicated a baby in a cradle, "That's Regulus, my heir, and the other one is James, after your father."

Harry went to Regulus, and regarded the sleeping baby. Two weeks old, colourless lashes, a mere fluff of white hair. He said, "He's beautiful. He looks like Narcissa."

"Blonde, but James is dark, like the Blacks mostly are. But Narcissa's a Black as well, of course."

Harry remembered him telling him that, and had thought him imprudent for marrying a cousin. Sirius went on cheerfully, "Three sisters, Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda, but Bella died. She was a beauty too, at least in her younger days. I was supposed to marry her you know, but then the Dark Lord took a fancy to her. They're all upstairs at the moment, getting primped up. Mary too. You know what women are."

Harry made a vague reply, thinking of a scenario where mad, cruel Bellatrix married rash Sirius, but then the flock of women came downstairs, and he was congratulating the proud mothers, and meeting Andromeda Tonks, who said that Ted had had to cancel at the last minute, "A small illness."

Sirius said casually, "I was lucky Narcissa's boy was born first. Couldn't have a Half-blood being the heir. Should have thought of it sooner."

Mary looked a little taken aback at that, but Narcissa smiled sweetly, and said, "But of course you're a good father to both of your sons."

"Of course. And to Harry. I'm being a godfather as well, doing a godfather's duty."

Harry asked distrustfully, "What have you been doing, Sirius?"

"At supper." He winked, and said, "There's something else to tell you too."

The doorbell rang, and Nymphadora ('Call me Tonks') and Remus Lupin were there, then almost straight away, Draco Malfoy, looking tall and very distinguished in his robes.

Lupin dutifully admired the babies, and then warmly greeted Harry, "So long since I've seen you!"

"I've been travelling."

Sirius said, "He says he's been doing the 'Grand Tour' or something, but I think it's just an excuse not to tell me where he lives. He doesn't trust anybody, you see."

Draco said smoothly, "And very wise too. How are you Harry?"

"Very well thank you, Draco. I never did thank you for helping me escape from Hogwarts that last time."

Sirius interrupted, "Quite unnecessary. _And_ before I had a chance to see you."

Harry reflected that there had been plenty of time for Sirius to see him if he'd wanted to, and had he been drinking, even before the party started? He said mildly, "I was very relieved to get away. Hermione and Draco helped me."

Draco asked, "How is the leg now?"

"I had a little trouble with cramping for a bit; it's good now."

Narcissa took control, steering the conversation into the sort of polite and meaningless chatter that passes for polite conversation.

The formalities then, officiated by an ancient witch whom Sirius blithely introduced as his Great Aunty Venus. Draco was named godfather to both babies, and Sirius said casually, "It has to be a wizard, you see, Harry, and Draco is related to me besides. I would have asked you otherwise, especially for James."

What surprised Harry was that when Draco took the first baby into his arms and promised to act as godfather, there was a glow of magic. He hadn't realised that there would be magic involved, and he tried to think back to Voldemort's memories. But maybe Voldemort had never been at a Naming Ceremony, or maybe that particular memory had not been passed on. He knew now that there were parts of Voldemort's life that he did not remember, though he thought he had most of his knowledge of magic. He certainly would not have been able to invent the Hiding Spell without Tom's knowledge.

Draco returned the surprised looking baby to Narcissa, and then took Mary's baby in his arms. James stared at him, and then started to wail. Draco ignored the protest, and the same glow appeared. The wailing ceased, and the baby gurgled, and reached for Draco's chin. The ancient witch nodded in satisfaction, and proclaimed, "The children of Sirius Black are named as part of the Black family, protected by Draco Malfoy as godfather."

The formalities were over, and Harry joined Draco. "I hear you're engaged."

Draco smiled, "Marie Bowen, but she has to complete fifth year first."

"I'm surprised she agreed, a Ravenclaw cutting school short?"

"I had to promise a tutor."

"Still..."

"Her son will be the Malfoy heir, and that is something any young woman would want for her son."

"Bowen. There were a lot of Bowens die, weren't there?"

"Most of the adult male Bowens are gone."

Harry changed the subject, "The Naming Ceremony and the godfather. Was there magic in that, like a Marriage Bond?"

"Didn't you know? It means that the child is more apt to like and trust his godfather, and the godfather is more apt to want to look after the child. It's a real honour to be named godfather."

"Muggles have godfathers, but I don't think it means much."

"I think when they say godfather, it has something to do with their religion. Ours is nothing to do with religion."

"How much power does a godfather have?"

"He is normally named as the guardian if needed. Otherwise nothing formal, and certainly nothing if the child is grown up." He grinned, "You might be pleased to hear that. I hear Sirius has been exceeding his authority."

"He has no authority over me. Never has had, but the magic of the ceremony... It makes me wonder if I was too much influenced to trust him."

Draco said seriously, "It's what I said before, you cannot trust anybody. And don't be tempted back into Aniragi Society, no matter what Sirius tells you. You will not last."

Harry laughed suddenly, "To think that I'd be taking advice from you!"

Draco wrinkled his nose, "I just don't want to see you in a slave collar, looking adoringly at your master. Doesn't mean I like you or anything!"

"Of course not. Far be it from me to suggest anything so unthinkable!"

Mary ushered them into one of the dining rooms for supper then. Like the 'light lunch' at the Finch-Fletchleys, 'supper' was quite a formal meal. Harry reflected that Aunt Petunia had been good for something. He'd had perfect table manners drilled into him as a child. It was second nature now, and the few variations specific to Aniragi etiquette quite easy to remember. Both Sirius and Narcissa watched him critically, but after a short time, Narcissa nodded, and took her attention off him. With a wry smile, he assumed he was not to be rebuked and sent from the table.

The conversation revolved around appropriate schooling for the babies when the time came, various entertainments that their mothers would soon be able to attend again, to gossip of acquaintances, including that Justin Finch-Fletchley was studying wealth management, which answered one question that Harry had been meaning to follow up on. Mary said, "Ron Weasley used to be your particular friend, didn't he, Harry? I hear he's contracted to marry Pansy Parkinson, but he has to give up his family name. He'll be a Parkinson, but in consolation, if Pansy has a boy, he'll be the head of the Parkinson family, the Vanie when old Reginald dies. And if Ginny marries Kosan Brooks, that will be two Vanie heirs who will be grandchildren to Molly and Arthur."

Harry asked, "Vanie?" If not for Voldemort's memories, he would not have known about Vanie. He always tried not to show knowledge that he should not have.

There was a hesitation, before Sirius shrugged and explained. Draco was frowning, thinking that Sirius should know better than to share this knowledge with those of impure blood. He'd obviously told his Muggle-born wife, and not only Harry, but Tonks was a Half-blood. No-one knew Lupin's family, and it was likely he'd been disowned when he became a werewolf. After all, he would scarcely have been _born_ 'Remus Lupin,' a name which strongly referred to wolves.

Tonks was very interested, and asked several questions, though Lupin was hardly saying anything. When Sirius started listing the names of the Vanie, Draco said lightly, "And so am I Vanie, but it is not as significant as Sirius says. We have no actual power these days. Like the Muggle queen, just a leftover from olden times." His glance of rebuke was not missed by Sirius, who stared at the ceiling, as if suddenly entranced.

Narcissa glanced at him, and said airily, "Anyway, I hear that Molly Weasley is strongly pressing Ginny to accept the Brooks offer. She thinks she won't do better."

"I thought she would not consent to be second wife," Harry commented.

"She doesn't have to. The first Mrs. Kosan Brooks died suddenly."

Harry raised his eyebrows, "Was it investigated? It seems very convenient."

"Just a sudden heart attack, and no-one would investigate the Brooks family without good evidence."

"Blake Brooks attacked me at school, just before I left. Was he ever punished?"

"Ask Tonks. She's an Auror, or was."

Tonks said, "The younger Brooks? I'd never heard that there had been anything like that. I suppose you could press charges yourself, Harry, but you'd have to give evidence of course."

"If I could do it by mail, I would. And what about Ron and Pansy? Zacharius has a young wife, doesn't he."

"In decline. She'll probably die soon. He hoped for a new heir in the direct line, but he's given up now. He's setting his hopes on Pansy instead, otherwise the name will die altogether."

"Is she sick because they made her have a Bonding ceremony?"

Sirius shrugged, "Probably. It's always a risk, but it was the only chance for an heir in the direct line, and that's important."

Mary said, "Personally I can't see that it _is_ so important. The Parkinsons were nearly all Death Eaters, male and female, and deserved to be wiped out."

"They are still one of the old Pure-blood families, and there are so few left. They must be preserved, and that reminds me, Harry..." He smiled triumphantly, "I've managed to find someone who's agreed that you can have his daughter. Pure-blood of course - that was essential since you're only a Half-blood yourself. They're drawing up the contracts now, and you're to be married in two months."

Harry stared at him in shock and growing anger. Sirius went on blithely, "She's not a prize, but I was lucky to find any witch who would agree to marry you - after being dirtied and all that. And I'll have to pay her family, but you can help with that. The Potters had money, which you must have now." He sat back expectantly, "Well, thank your godfather."

Draco watched Harry, a half-smile on his face, while the women were looking frankly anxious, Andromeda and Tonks quite angry.

Harry was listening to Tom Riddle, whose voice seemed to echo in his brain sometimes. _Be prudent. Do not speak in anger. Only when you are powerful can you let your temper free._ He took a deep breath, and said coolly, "You had no right to arrange anything like that, Sirius. I do not wish to marry a witch, and I certainly have no intention of paying someone for the privilege."

"But you must marry! Don't you understand? It's your duty."

"I do not do things for duty any more, Sirius. I do as I choose to do. I will not marry this girl."

"You only have to get her pregnant, Harry. You don't have to live with her if you don't want to."

"No, Sirius, I will not marry her."

Sirius was beginning to become very angry, his voice rising, "I have signed the contracts. The Promise has been made. You have to marry her!"

"You had no authority to sign any contracts, Sirius. You were not my guardian when I was a child, and you certainly are not now." Harry was still speaking quite calmly, though he was coldly angry.

Draco asked curiously, "Who is it, Sirius?"

"Her name is Cecilia Shunpike."

Draco laughed, "She's about thirty, and works as a waitress. No brains, no looks."

Sirius said sulkily, "She's Pure-blood, and Harry is in no position to be choosy."

"If I want to marry a witch, I'll find one in America. But I'm only eighteen, and I don't wish to marry yet."

"You could be killed, and what then? You've got to have an heir before you get killed."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Didn't you say I was quite safe now? That I was protected by the Ministry, and no-one would dare touch me?"

Sirius slouched in his chair, looking sulky.

Narcissa asked, "Did you make a Promise, Sirius?"

Sirius looked suddenly hopeful, "I made a Blood Vow. If you don't comply, I'll be forsworn." He looked sourly at Harry, "Not that _he_ cares that I'll die."

Harry said, quite coldly, "If you were fool enough to give a Blood Vow, then I guess you will die. What makes you think my life less important than yours? I will not marry a woman someone else chooses for me."

Sirius rose from the table, and snapped, "You'll die without children, and the Potters will be gone, just because you don't do your duty."

"Do you wish me to leave, Sirius?"

Narcissa spoke sternly, "Sirius, apologise to your guest, and maybe stretch your legs for a bit. You should have asked Harry first. He is quite entitled to refuse."

Sirius glared at Harry, but the stern eyes of his wife were on him, and he stamped away, muttering.

Harry supposed he'd best go, and rose, saying again, "They are beautiful babies, Narcissa, Mary."

Mary put up a hand to slow him, and said, "There's something else you should know."

Narcissa said, "Sirius was investigating your mother's ancestors, though we didn't realise that it was with marriage contracts in mind."

Harry sat, not concealing his interest, "My mother's real father? Did he find out?"

Mary said, "Dumbledore had no legitimate children, but left a list of his Muggle-born descendants. I am on it, and so is Lily Evans, with you mentioned as her son."

Harry laughed, "He always said he felt like a grandfather to me. Some grandfather!"

"There were seventy-four, so he beat the infamous Calvin McKenzie's record. Hermione Granger was one of the youngest, and there were a lot I've never heard of. Only some of the grandchildren were noted, but you were one, and with an asterisk."

"So you've seen the original list?"

"A duplicate. Any Muggle-born or descendant of a Muggle-born can ask for a copy. No-one wants to marry a close relative."

"Hermione then is my aunt."

Mary nodded, "And so am I, and many others, aunts, uncles, great aunts, and so on. Not that it means much. Illegitimate children have no rights to either name or property."

Sirius had returned, and was leaning against the doorway. He said sullenly, "I went to a lot of trouble making sure I didn't contract you to anyone of dubious birth, Harry."

Remus Lupin had been very quiet, but now spoke seriously, "You owe gratitude and obedience to your godfather, Harry. Not many would have gone to the trouble. You should do as he advises. You owe it to him."

Harry's temper rose again, and he asked coldly, "Why? What exactly do I owe Sirius, Mr. Lupin?"

Lupin smiled sadly, "Remus, please. He's cared for you all your life. You know that. As have I. We were the best friends of your father."

"I know where Sirius was for most of my childhood, but what about you, Remus? Did you know I was being starved and thrashed when I was little? I was told my parents died in a car crash. I owe nothing to Sirius, certainly nothing to you, and I owe not a thing to the wizarding world." He was forgetting Tom's advice, and his voice had risen.

Narcissa said quickly, "Another drink, Sirius? Anyone else?"

Draco said, "The red is very nice. Very smooth."

Sirius was distracted, "My father laid it down. I have some excellent wines in my cellar."

"My father was a connoisseur, but I don't know much. Maybe you could teach me."

Sirius beamed at him, "Do you want to see it now? It's quite a collection."

Draco gave a bare glance at Harry, and stood up, "I would very much like to see it."

Narcissa gave her son a nod of appreciation.

Tonks said critically, "It's a wonder he didn't wake the babies."

Harry looked to Narcissa. He didn't like being the cause of such dissension, and yet Sirius's behaviour... He'd been looking almost dangerous for a bit, and then so easily distracted. He really was unstable, surely worse than he'd been even a few months before. Narcissa said, "Don't worry about Sirius. And I'm quite sure that there was no Blood Vow. If you like, I'll insert a notice in the _Daily Prophet_ stating that he does not act for you."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Narcissa. But I can handle that."

"Something else though, again your own ancestors. It seems he did investigate quite thoroughly. Lily Evan's mother was in an Orphanage before being adopted. It has recently come to light that she was a Squib, originally from the small Aniragi community in Norway. She was called Sissal Wikan, abandoned to the Muggles when she was just four. She didn't have any English, and the Muggles didn't have her name. They called her Cissy Jackson. I will give you the address of her original head of family."

Harry felt very cold. His grandmother had been abandoned by her family because she had no magic, his grandfather was a rapist, but he guessed he'd already known that, just not that it was Dumbledore. He said, quite politely, "Thank you for telling me, but the more I learn about Aniragi society, the more sure I am that Mugglekind is far more civilised."

He turned a deaf ear to the loud protests around him. In a pause, Andromeda said, "My husband is Muggle-born. He's become so disgusted with the rudeness he meets that he refuses to attend any social functions where he'll meet with the Pure-blood fraternity. The Blacks disowned me because I married him. Nymphadora is a Half-blood. I am glad she managed to find someone who loves her."

Harry's cynical gaze went to Remus Lupin. A were-wolf. Even more of an outcast than Muggle-borns. Muggles fell in love, and then married and had children. They didn't make contracts, and then Bond themselves with magic so that they could stand each other long enough to conceive an heir. Zacharius Parkinson's poor young bride. He remembered her name now, Lisa Turpin, who'd been just sixteen when she married him. Dying because an old man couldn't give her the sexual contact the Bond demanded. Kosan Brook's wife who'd become an inconvenience, and 'died suddenly,' not that anyone seemed the slightest bit concerned.

Tonks asked, "Harry, what you said about being abused when you were a child, - is that true?"

"It's true. I think maybe Dumbledore planned it that way, and as there was no-one else interested in my welfare, it went on until I complained to a policeman. That was the last time I was badly hurt."

"There are supposed to be checks on all Muggle-born and Muggle-raised children. If they're not being looked after, they get placed with a wizard family instead."

"The papers say that they are finding and punishing anyone who rapes Muggles these days. Is it true?"

"Oh yes. It's our biggest problem. The trouble is that it only becomes known most of the time when there's a Muggle-born child, and that's stopped, probably because of all the trouble around Salem."

"I've seen a bare mention in the _Informer."_

"We had a talk from American colleagues not long before I resigned. They have far too many Muggle-born wizards, and word is spreading among Muggles. Two men, at least one a wizard, attacked the wand shop in Salem, and destroyed quite a lot of stock. There have been other attacks on wizards, often using Muggle technology." She smiled rather grimly, "We all know what guns are now. And there's a worry that their technology will be too much for our Muggle-repelling Charms. Wizarding areas are at risk."

Harry was very interested, and when Draco returned, he joined in with some new facts, gleaned from the extensive Malfoy investments. Most of Harry's investments in the wizarding world had been sold, but he thought that there had been a couple of properties in Salem. America only had about a thousand Anirage, most of them living in the Salem community, plus a few in a smaller community in California.

Sirius and Remus were in a deep conversation in a corner, and the other women had gone to tend the babies, who apparently needed a feed. A nanny was looking after them, but Harry had only seen a glimpse of her so far.

It was late when Harry returned with relief to Sarah. She seemed so wholesome compared to the way that wizards seemed to think. Sirius hadn't seemed at all disturbed that a young girl had been sacrificed to the Parkinson desire for an heir, and the Brooks were not good people. He hoped Ginny had more sense than to marry this Kosan. He supposed she could be ambitious enough. Percy was ambitious, and Ron. Ron was marrying Pansy Parkinson, the daughter, cousin and niece of Death Eaters. If she'd been a nice person herself... But Ron had never liked the Slytherin girl; he hadn't liked any Slytherins.

And himself! His indignation rose again - that Sirius had thought it his right to arrange a marriage for him! Sarah was already sound asleep in bed, and in the dim light, he studied the face he knew so well. By objective standards it was blunt and plain. Harry knew she was not pretty. For him, it didn't matter. He'd ask her to marry him one day, maybe when they finished University. Children? If he sired magical children, they'd expect to be part of a magical world, expect to go to Hogwarts to learn magic. He didn't want any children of his to be part of that corrupt and hypocritical world, especially not when they'd be looked down upon because they were not only Half-bloods, but because they'd be the children of Harry Potter. Maybe if Sarah had her children, using an anonymous and definitely _Muggle _donor, maybe that would be the solution. Magic. Who needed it?

He had a shower before bed, and as it was no trouble, used magic to shave. Sarah didn't like him with rough cheeks, and he was already looking forward to making love with her in the morning. He might have protested to himself that he didn't need magic, but he used it casually and routinely, just not in front of others.

_hphphp_

The female Healer asked Hermione, "You're quite sure about this, Miss Granger?"

Hermione replied firmly, "I am sure."

Anthea Jones glanced at Tonius Carlyle, who stood quietly in the corner. If the Healer managed to dissuade the Mudblood from marrying his second son, he certainly wasn't going to stop her.

"You must know that it is quite permanent. There is no going back."

No going back. Hermione said, "It is written into the marriage contract. I want to marry Vayden. I am sure. Please do it."

"Some very minor pain, then." She raised her wand, and then lowered it again, "Why don't you simply be his mistress? Or maybe put it off for a year? There are many who would like to marry you. You're bright and attractive. You don't need this man."

"I want this. I will pay the price." The Healer was looking at her with pity. Hermione raised her head. She was _not_ to be pitied. She was marrying a wealthy and influential man, and this way, she would make a difference. Tracey's babies would be hers as well, and they would be raised in a more civilised society. She would make a difference.

The Healer cast her spell, and there was some slight discomfort as she'd warned. Hermione had what she wanted. The following day there would be a small Muggle ceremony with her parents present, and then the Aniragi marriage ceremony, but not a Bonding Ceremony. Vayden said he loved her, and no magical bond was needed. She had what she wanted, so why did she feel like crying?

She didn't show her grief, but only nodded at Tonius Carlyle. Vayden was already in a Bond-Marriage with Tracey Bowen. They'd been on a month-long honeymoon, and it was known that she was pregnant, though not yet whether it was male, as so much desired. The added magic of a Bond-Marriage encouraged conception, but there was nothing that would ensure the boy that was needed. If there was no child born nine months after the Bonding, there was often no child born to the marriage at all. Hermione was not the only witch who would never have children. Infertility among Anirage, for both witch and wizard, was very common. It was one reason why wizards were tempted to leave illegitimate children. Muggle women were so easy to get pregnant.

Hermione had decided to continue her training as a Healer. It was turning out easier than she'd expected, and there was plenty of time to do any other reading she was inclined to, mostly a study of Aniragi law at that stage. Traditions and customs as well. Maybe Tracey would help her with that once she was married.

***chapter end***


	5. Chapter 5

_Note that this story is third in the Sacrifice series.__ *__Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Reminder of characters__: ** __Kreighley__: Ross is manager, Ray is the groundskeeper, Lionel his assistant. Lionel was also a Kreighley kid, kept on as staff once he was eighteen. He is of low intelligence. Nick is one of the senior boys, whose ambition is to be a lawyer. *Aaron Bates is also senior. He was brought up in a religious cult. *Ian and Chris have left Kreighley, and now work as fishermen. *Terms used: An Aniragia is a Wizarding area such as Diagon Alley. **_

_**Chapter 5**_:

It was early Spring, and Hermione and Tracey wandered the gardens of the Carlyle Estate. The first daffodils were blooming, and Tracey commented that the gardener had said that he'd be putting in a lot more bulbs for next year.

"I asked him why he didn't make them bloom sooner, and he looked thoroughly disapproving and said that interfering with nature was not for a true gardener," commented Hermione.

"My mother would have sacked our gardener if he didn't have flowers out all the time, in or out of season."

"The news out of Salem was grim."

"It serves them right. We've been telling them for years that admitting to real witches in Salem was stupid. But they maintained that if the Muggles thought it was just a harmless religion, it would be fine. They didn't even bother wearing Muggle clothing when in Muggle areas! Just stupid!" There had been a big raid on the Salem Aniragia, far more serious than the attack of a few months before. The wandmaker and his only apprentice were dead, all his stock destroyed, and numerous other homes entered, every wand discovered, destroyed. There had been several deaths. Wizards were not accustomed to thinking that a gun could match a wand, and several had resisted. A few Muggles had been hurt, none killed as far as anyone knew.

Tracey went on, "It just shows that many of the ideas of the Dark Lord were valid. We must be entirely separate, there must not be Muggle-borns sired, and if they are, they should be removed from their parents as soon as they're identified, and the parents made to think that they're dead."

Hermione said mildly, "I would not have wanted to lose my parents. They're very dear to me."

"They're only Muggles. How can they possibly understand your life?"

"People are people. They may not understand my life, but they've kept silent all these years and have never been anything but supportive. It was frightening going to Hogwarts that first time." She laughed ruefully, "And I tried to conceal that by pretending I knew everything. I think I had Harry thoroughly intimidated."

"Didn't you say you met him on the train? What was he like?"

"He looked about eight, not eleven. And he was in ragged clothes, rather overly polite. I think he was like me, terrified, and trying not to show it. But he was already fast friends with Ron Weasley, and it was ages before I had friends." She shook her head, "To think I'm actually the daughter of the much-revered headmaster. I still find that hard to believe!"

"He probably passed on his brains as well as his power."

"Maybe," Hermione said dubiously, "But then my mother was very bright, and my father, - not that slimy old man but my father who raised me, he was also highly intelligent, far more so than the headmaster. _They_ wouldn't have had to influence people with magic to make them think them wise."

"It's still frowned upon to say such things openly, Hermione, you know that."

Hermione said ruefully, "I'm managing not to offend so often. You're a great help."

Tracey and Hermione were very close. It was Hermione who was sympathetic when Tracey was ill. Aniragi women tended to be more sick and for longer than Muggle women. There was nothing the Healers could do about it, either. At least the spells for childbirth were effective. Few babies were lost, almost never a woman, and there was seldom more than some slight discomfort as the tissues stretched ready for the birth. There were Healers who specialised in childbirth. Their motto was 'Never an Ouch!'

Tracey was strong-featured and plain. With the constant illness, she'd become thinner, and now looked pale and ill. Vayden respected her, but was not attracted to her. The mild Marriage Bond chosen became dormant once the woman was pregnant. It was Hermione whose bed he shared. Tracey didn't care. The last thing she wanted now was sex. Maybe after the baby. Hermione was having an influence, and Tracey was beginning to be as fervent as Hermione in her desire to improve things.

Vayden always listened to their ideas with courtesy, and agreed that enslaving Muggles for sex was wicked. It was what every wizard said when there were women present. Tonius and Linley said the same, even the old Vanie, Reginald Carlyle, though he'd enjoyed a series of slaves, even before he was widowed. There were none now, but only because he didn't want them any more. Each of the male Carlyles lived in separate wings of the enormous Manor, Reginald in the princely quarters of the Head of House. Every evening, unless they were out, they dressed carefully, and met in the formal dining room for an elaborate dinner. There were no children, though Linley and Schapelle had been married a few years now.

Harry had no ambitions to reform the wizarding world. He hadn't even visited it since the argument with Sirius in January, who was still not talking to him. Sirius had been furious about the notice in the Daily Prophet that stated that Sirius Black had no authority to act for Harry Potter. Harry had inserted it three times in the one week, so there was no excuse for anyone to miss it. Sirius had sent a blistering Howler, but it was routine for the Exchange Post Office to destroy Howlers unopened, with a letter of rebuke to the sender. They were not really that difficult to destroy. There had also been a dignified letter from Cecilia Shunpike, that stated that her father had acted without her authority either, and while she was very grateful to Harry for being the cause of destruction of Voldemort, she hadn't thought of marrying him, _'or anyone for that matter. I don't think I like men much.'_

Harry continued to keep up with the news, and he was rather pleased that the Muggles of Salem had acted to defend themselves. He assumed they'd had plenty of provocation if the Muggle-borns were as numerous as they said, but there had probably been other factors as well. He hadn't yet bothered to follow up the Wikan family who'd abandoned his Squib grandmother, though he'd looked them up in _'A Review of the Aniragi families of Europe.'_ A very old family of Pure-bloods, it seemed, with a reputation for throwing up the occasional exceptionally strong wizard. The notorious wizard Aarnvin Wikan had been one of them, but that was over three hundred years ago.

There was an invitation to the Weasley place, which surprised him. It was written by Molly, and she said that she wanted all her children to be there for a celebration of Spring and new families, - _'I've always thought of you as another son.'_ Harry remembered those motherly hugs he'd so much relished, even when they embarrassed him, as well as her desire to feed him up. In those days, she'd been the closest thing he'd had to a mother. She and Arthur had visited just before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, just as if they were family. And she was there afterward. He remembered wanting to cry his heart out when she'd reached out to him. He shouldn't blame them too much for falling in with Dumbledore's schemes. The old man had been revered.

Should he go? Draco had said not to trust anyone, and he remembered Ron's animosity at Sirius's party, apparently merely because he'd been wearing robes that probably the Weasleys could only dream of. He sent a polite reply, purportedly from a secretary, stating that Mr. Potter appreciated contact from his friends, but was away and out of touch.

Harry's outgoing mail always went to the Exchange Post Office, where it was sent on by owl or Muggle mail, whichever was appropriate. They had their own breed of owls, with a distinctive black banded pattern on the wings.

The owl happened to arrive when most of the Weasley family were gathered for Sunday dinner. Ginny was at school, and Ron, Bill and Charlie all absent, but the unmarried brothers were there, Fred, George and Percy. Percy looked up hopefully as his mother opened it. She sighed, "Harry's away, or so his secretary says. He was such a dear boy. I wanted him to be part of my family again."

Arthur said, "I thought he'd come. He always liked being here."

Molly turned her attention to Fred and George, who were scuffling under the table, "Why don't you boys marry? I want a flock of grandchildren to spoil."

Fred asked airily, "Why should we? We have everything we need."

George added, "Anyway, you're going to have plenty of grandchildren without us contributing!"

"Pansy's not pregnant yet, and Ginny's not even married yet."

"Bill's having a second one, and Charlie's Annie has one on the way."

Percy said sourly, "Potter probably doesn't even know what a Spring Renewal Festival is!"

Arthur said thoughtfully, "I'll write and explain. Tell him that Ron wants to apologise maybe."

Fred asked, "What does he have to apologise for?"

"Oh, Ron said something tactless, and Harry took it the wrong way. He's probably just a little over-sensitive."

George said off-handedly, "We're making a mint of money from those posters. We couldn't have done that without Ron supplying the memory for copying."

Arthur said comfortably, "He wouldn't know about those. He has virtually no contact with the wizarding world these days."

Percy said, "Mr. Steinway wants a recent photograph if possible. I hoped to take one at the gathering."

"Are you still hoping to marry his daughters?"

Percy said smugly, "They're accustomed to only the best, they've never met a Muggle, nor even a Muggle-born, and they're pretty besides. Mr. Steinway invited me to dinner again just yesterday, and he says that Mr. Henry Steinway will be there as well."

Arthur may have been impressed by the thought of his son dining with the Chairman of the Vanie Council, but said reprovingly, "I've always fought against the denigration of Muggles and the Muggle-born. I didn't expect to hear one of my own sons speak that way."

Percy shrugged impatiently, "It is not fitting that Pure-bloods have anything to do with Muggles. Van Steinway calls them the 'people of the dirt,' so if he ever comes here, make sure you don't speak of them please, Father."

Arthur said with dignity, "I think I _do_ know how to behave, Percival. And merely because I am sometimes intrigued by some of the things that Muggles do, does not mean that I _admire_ them!"

"Yes, Father. Can you try and get Harry here please? I would be very grateful."

Fred asked curiously, "Why does he want a photograph, Perce?"

"Mr. Steinway says he's Protected, but it's difficult to protect someone if you don't know where he lives even. I think he'd like to know where he lives."

Arthur nodded, but Fred and George exchanged a glance. They'd been quite intrigued by the reports of Muggle slaves. Their mother couldn't know of course, and it would be hard to keep one, or maybe a pair, in their small premises in Diagon Alley. But they were making money hand over fist, and it was time to make some changes. Probably the Ministry would soon forget its crackdown, - it was only Amelia Bones, and there were whispers she might not last long.

_Hphphhp._

Ross Davies critically regarded the large room of the new pub. A building probably not even five years old, he thought, looking new, but with old-fashioned touches added. It looked as if the designer hadn't decided on a style, but used whatever bits he could find from demolition sites. But it was clean, comfortable, and had attracted a young clientele, including three of his boys, grown up and independent. He'd been told that this was where to look for Lee Chase.

The competition in progress drew his eye. Ian was throwing, Chris and Lee watching closely. Ross had never been involved in the pub scene, and had only played darts a few times in his life, but he knew enough to see that Ian was an expert. He sat down quietly and watched, working out after a time that Ian, Chris and Lee were one team, and a group of older men were playing against them, according to the untidy scrawl on the blackboard it was the 'Whitepointers' against the 'Falmouth Fellas.' The scores showed them about even.

Lee stood to take his turn. He glanced around casually, pausing and nodding as he saw Ross, but checking quickly over the men standing at the bar. Ross guessed that it was habit. Lee had been prey, probably assumed he still was. He was still only seventeen, though there was nothing left of the child in his bearing. Lee said something to the others, and Ian and Chris looked around and waved to him. But Lee had his first dart flying, showing nearly as much expertise as Ian.

After another half hour, the competition was over, Ian's team losing by a small margin. Two different teams started to play. Ross was pleased when his boys came to join him, Lee with a beer in hand for him. He commented, grinning, "You're still underage, Lee. She shouldn't have served you."

"I told her it wasn't for me, and anyhow, Bess never worries."

"Ian?"

Harry grinned, "Big gorilla like him? It never occurs to anyone he might be underage."

Conversation flowed, both Ian and Chris very interested to show the boss how well they were doing. Chris said, "We're boarding with this old lady at the moment. She's a good cook, and doesn't care what we do. It's good, but maybe we'll get a flat. We can afford it."

Ross asked, "What about you, Lee? You're still living in?"

"They like us living in for the first year, but I reckon I might get a flat next year, maybe share with Sarah."

"James told me you were still with Sarah."

Harry smiled, "I reckon I'll be with Sarah for the rest of my life. She's something special."

Ian said, "I reckon she is too. She puts up with Chris's swearing, and doesn't say a word."

"As if you don't swear more!" Chris scoffed.

Ross commented, "One of the new boys suggested a swear jar. He said his Nanna had one, and whenever anyone swore, they had to put in a coin. But the suggestion didn't go down well."

Harry asked, interested, "Who are the new boys?"

"The one who said about the swear jar is Lindsay. He's twelve, used to live with his grandparents, but they're just too old to cope. Then there's the Stern brothers, eleven, twelve and fourteen. The middle one's in a wheelchair, and needs more help than we can provide. Then three street boys of fourteen and fifteen presented themselves to Social Services, and stated that they'd like to go to an Orphanage instead please. They'd seen a couple of deaths, one from an OD, one from violence, and decided their life expectancy would be enhanced if they had some sort of a home. They're doing well, especially Ryan, who's the leader."

"That's seven new kids. Are you over-crowded?"

"You boys left, then Jason, also the Caruthers brothers... But then Aaron Bates came back, and he's been put in Lower Sixth, so may be with us longer than usual. His education was way behind. We are a little over-crowded, but there's a few leaving at the end of the school year."

Ian said, "I hear Steve got done for vandalism."

"He and Zack made this magnificent mural on the temporary wall of a construction site. They were seen when they were not quite finished. They could have quite easily slipped away according to Zack, but Stephen just had to finish it. It's still there, but won't be for much longer, as construction is nearly complete."

"What did they do to them?"

"Zack was let off with a warning, but it's the second time Stephen's been caught, so he was given community service. He was told to paint some public toilets, but was allowed to choose his own design. He's been painting something called 'Astro Boy.' Zack's been helping him, a couple of others as well. He's getting commissions now."

Ross started talking about the new boys, and after a while, Chris and Ian drifted away, not interested in the ones they didn't know. Harry stayed, listening, as Ross spoke about Kevin Stern, who had Muscular Dystrophy, that he'd soon need a self-propelled wheelchair, that National Health provided some things, but his life could be enhanced with extras. "He's not strong enough to go in the sea for instance, and Hydrotherapy would help him a lot, but the closest pool is here. If there was one in Traynor, he could go after school, every day if he wants."

"Wouldn't one at Kreighley itself be better for him?"

"It would look a little odd if a charity provided something that expensive, maybe draw attention." He paused, allowing the implication to sink in.

Harry nodded, noting that it appeared that Ross guessed that he was behind the Tom Foundation. The Tom Foundation had provided quite a lot of extras for Keighley in the last few years. He asked, "What's he like?"

Ross grimaced, "Rude to everyone he sees, and a tyrant with his brothers, who are totally loyal, and help him all the time. They share a room, but they're cramped. A wheelchair takes a lot of space."

"Can he walk at all?"

"He can, and is encouraged to do as much as possible for himself, as that's supposed to slow the deterioration."

"And you said his life expectancy is only about thirty at the most."

"A few have lived longer, but their quality of life..."

"So what are you planning on doing for him?"

"I want the best for him. The social worker said that the reason he's being such a swine to everyone, including her, is that he's terrified of abandonment. His father left soon after he was first diagnosed, and his mother committed suicide when it was wrongly suspected that Warren had it as well. It's inherited from the mother you see, like Haemophilia."

Harry drummed his fingers on the table, wishing he was still at Kreighley, wishing he could somehow help the boy who was living with a death sentence. Ross said, "Don't _think _of visiting. We've standing orders from way up high to advise immediately if a boy in his late teens appears, black-haired and with a distinctive scar on his forehead. They're still looking for you. And anyway, Aaron Bates is taking an interest. Aaron's a bit of a misfit at the moment, but he's big enough to help the brothers when Kevin orders them to help him down to the beach."

"He _orders?"_

"He orders. I've yet to hear a please from him. And nobody can put him in his place because of his illness."

"Maybe he'll settle down."

"Anyhow I thought I'd write to the Tom Foundation, ask for funds for a purpose-built room for him, adjoining a double-room for his brothers, plus a better quality wheelchair, and do you think I should give the address of Traynor Hospital Auxiliary to talk about a Hydrotherapy Pool for Traynor?"

"Maybe the Foundation has so much money they don't know what to do with it. Maybe supply the names of a few dozen Hospital Auxiliaries of towns who need Hydrotherapy Pools. Kevin can't be the only one who needs it."

"Do your trustees allow that? You do have to keep something for yourself."

"How's Nick getting on? I hear he organised to get the new assistant dismissed."

Ross looked at him searchingly, but then conceded to the change of subject. "He still has a vicious tongue, but Vincent pulls him up now and then, and Nick allows it. You can't hit a poof, he says. He's undisputed leader, and has become protective. The younger boys would never have complained about Burgess if Nick hadn't ordered."

"At school?"

"I think he may be very bright indeed. Since we said about possible scholarships, he's putting in a major effort. He wants to be a solicitor. And he and Malcolm have compared notes and plan to go up against two wardens they knew when in Juvenile Detention. And that'll be criminal charges, not just dismissal and blacklisting, like with Bill Burgess. Funny thing, I liked Bill. I never would have expected him to be interested in young boys."

"I guess you can't tell."

At the end of the long conversation, Ross Davies said, "Call me Ross, Lee. You're grown up now."

Harry nodded, "Ross."

It was the first time that Ross Davies had conferred with the mystery boy as if to an equal, but he suspected that they would be working in partnership, even if Lee was still too wary to actually admit that the Tom Foundation was himself. And anyway, there must be others involved, as Lee was still a few months from being eighteen. He presumed it was inherited money, but he was unlikely to have more than an allowance until he was of age. Maybe it was the 'Protector' that he'd met the previous January when Lee went missing for several weeks.

A few days later, Harry was at the Manor, doing his usual check through his correspondence before tackling the newspapers. He passed over the letter marked as from Arthur Weasley, a moment's curiosity about the one from Hermione, but straightaway opened the one from Poppy Pomfrey, a reply to his query about a magical cure for Muscular Dystrophy.

_'For a start,'_ she'd written, _'It is illegal to intervene to cure Muggles. Every Healer or nurse has to swear an oath not to touch Muggles. The reason is not only that it's a breach of the Secrecy Act, but because both spells and potions work differently on Muggles. There are some especially developed for use on Muggles, usually illegally, like the Ricca Potion, which works similarly on Muggle or wizard, but the most commonly used pain potion will badly hurt a Muggle, for instance, and an ordinary Pepper-up Potion kills instantly. Secondly, I've never heard of Muscular Dystrophy, though I read the information you supplied with interest. The closest I've found is a wizard in 1899, afflicted with what was termed 'Creeping Paralysis.' It was treated with muscle strengthening potions, with slight success, and he was provided with various magical aids to make his life easier, but the disease progressed until the young man asked to be put down. Remember how small our population is. If a disease is rare among Muggles, it is likely to be unknown by a wizard Healer.'_

Harry supposed that at least he wasn't faced with the dilemma of explaining a miracle cure. Poppy had written at length, three pages of gossip, including that Severus Snape was a father. _'I visited him at Christmas, and he was like a different man. He still has that acerbic tongue, but his tiny daughter has him doting over her. His wife is pregnant again, and he's very attentive. It is so good to see him happy.'_

Harry tried to imagine Severus Snape as a doting father, and failed. Even when he'd been his own Demter Guardian, the care he'd shown had been well disguised with a brisk manner. He'd have quite liked to visit, but Severus had thought himself in danger because of the help he'd extended to him, and he'd best not risk it.

He looked through the collected business letters for the expected one from Ross, addressed to the Tom Foundation. He read over it carefully, although much of it was a repeat of what Ross had told him personally. Without hesitation he approved the funds for construction of the rooms especially for the Stern boys, the purchase of a new van modified to make it easy to transport a wheelchair, and a few small devices which would make life generally easier for the boy. Ross had enclosed a note saying that if funds permitted, he hoped to keep Kevin with them as long as possible, even after he was fully grown, rather than allow him to go to a Nursing Home. _'Kreighley Beach is still classified as a private home, even though we're under the thumb of the government these days, so I do have some latitude.'_

The Hydrotherapy Pool was more difficult, and Harry was slightly stunned to see just how much it would cost, not just for construction, but for staffing. The costs would be ongoing, and for discretion's sake, Traynor's pool could not be the first. And yet... He looked back over his lists of investments. He was spending a small fraction of what his investments were bringing in, and his wealth was increasing. No-one needed that much money. He should make a will, as well. The Tom Foundation was needed, and what if he was killed or taken? Maybe if he disappeared, there should be no delay, but after a set time, maybe a month, the trustees should become Ross and his wife, plus the Chases. He nodded to himself, and set things in motion. He'd delegate the details.

He went through the newspapers before he turned to the remaining personal letters, admitting to himself that he was more interested in Kevin Stern whom he'd never met, than he was in those he'd used to regard as his best friends. Kevin Stern was rude to everyone and a tyrant to his brothers. Harry thought he liked his spirit, - certainly it was better than whining all the time; on the other hand, _he _didn't have to put up with him.

A letter from Hermione. She was inviting him to dinner with her family, Tracey, Vayden and herself, and Vayden's brother Linley, and his wife. _'She says she used to have a 'little Harry Potter' doll, and would like to meet you in person. Tracey and myself are more interested in discussing needed reforms to the laws relating to Muggles.'_ Vayden and Linley Carlyle, who'd been Slytherins. Slytherin House had been more affected than any other when Marked Death Eaters had died. He creased his brow, trying to remember, - Voldemort's memory, not his own. Had he Marked any Carlyles? He rather thought that he had, but he was unsure. There had been so many, and some did not stay faithful. Harry shook his head, dispelling the vague memories of putting his wand to the arm of a female Carlyle, and decided to decline the invitation.

The usual, - magical writing that said that Mr. Potter was travelling abroad, and while grateful that his friends keep in touch, he was unable to be contacted.

Arthur Weasley, _'Please come Harry. Molly cares about you so much. She's convinced that you're deliberately shunning us, but you can't blame us for being taken in by Dumbledore, or not forever. She loves you like a mother, and I so hate to see her cry of the hurt of having one of her sons refuse to visit. Ron too. He was shocked when you drew a knife on him last July, but I've spoken of his own conduct, and he wants to apologise. Bill tried very hard to help you, remember? We will all be there, every one of us, spouses as well, and Neville Longbottom, who's contracted to Ginny. Bill, Charlie and Ron are all married now. Please Harry. Molly needs to see her family complete at least once before she dies.' _

Before she dies? Harry hadn't thought she was sick, but he supposed he wouldn't know. It was scarcely likely to be in the paper. He wrote the same reply as to Hermione but he was thinking about it. There was little risk surely, if he just turned up unannounced. There were too many for it to be a trap. And Arthur and Molly were good people, weren't they? The event was in six days time.

_Hphphhp_.

Kevin Stern wore a rare grin on his face as boys took turns trying out his new wheelchair. It could get quite a turn of speed when it was turned up all the way. It was a competition, he was Timer, and Mike, Tim, Lindsay, Warren and Larry were competing. It was Mike at the moment, whizzing along the path, around the cracked birdbath, swerving in and out of six large stones set as obstacles, and back to where he sat. He consulted the second hand of the old alarm clock he held and said, "67 seconds."

Aaron wrote it down, and announced that Mike was in the lead.

Lindsay said, "It would be better if we could have a wheelchair each, and we'd really have a race."

"They'd be pretty expensive, I reckon."

Kevin nodded. A wheelchair like this was _extremely_ expensive. And he was going to have a new bedroom, with a proper big, _private_ bathroom. It wasn't too bad at the moment, but he was going to get worse, and he hated the thought of the other boys seeing once he needed more help. And he was going to die, but not for some years yet probably. And anyway, Aaron said that he reckoned by that time, they'd have made euthanasia legal, so he wouldn't have to worry about being totally helpless. He could go when he wanted to, Aaron said. The Counsellor, Donna, said that he should trust in God, but Aaron used to belong to a religious cult, and he said that God was just an excuse for doing bad things. Kevin thought he preferred to believe Aaron rather than Donna. After all, if there was a God, he hadn't given him much of a deal!

He watched the clock until the second hand reached the 12 mark, and said, "Go!" Tim quickly reached maximum speed, snagged a wheel on a crack in the cement, and went sprawling, the wheelchair on its side, wheels still spinning. Kevin was anxious for a moment, but he saw Davies watching mildly, and assumed that it was not so easily broken. The boss was a good bloke really. He supposed he should say thank you. Maybe tomorrow. Only soft kids were polite and grateful all the time, and he was tough.

The wheelchair was righted, and a vociferous argument developed over whether Tim was entitled to a second go.

In the Ministry of Magic, Wallace Pettit regarded the shelves of dusty balls that filled the Hall of Prophecies, his new responsibility. For hundreds of years prophecies had been stored here, with little effort to ensure they came from a reliable source. The ones that had come true were but a tiny minority, but included the two famous ones about Harry Potter. There were others that could be about him, but also could be about dozens of other wizards. In some he was a hero, saving the world, in others he destroyed them all in a terrible act of vengeance. Several, oddly, teamed him with the 'Bad Faith Scion,' which he interpreted as the young Van Draco Malfoy, but that that pair should fight as allies, or even closer than allies, was scarcely credible. Perlkins had recently put forward the theory that a true Seer sometimes prophesied for any of numerous alternate worlds, which meant that there were no false prophecies as such, just that most were not true for _this_ reality. Carl Perlkins was known for his wacky theories.

Pettit had not previously been interested in prophecies, but he'd argued with Umbridge once too often, and been transferred. Pettit was happy to be away from the toad-woman, had every intention of banning the colour pink from his life, and was quickly becoming more interested in his new responsibility. There was no-one over him, and no-one under him. It suited him fine. He could even take it easy when the pain from his old injuries was too much, without anyone making snide comments about his lack of activity. He'd been an Auror once, but badly hurt not long after the first fall of Voldemort.

Historically, each prophecy would be enclosed in a highly breakable globe, and now there were hundreds of dusty shelves, and hundreds of thousands of dusty prophecies. Pettit had his own ideas, and from now on, each new prophecy would be recorded properly and patterns noted, maybe by means of colour coding the files as they did in the Aurors' office. When there was a pattern of warnings, as there had been recently, notice should be taken. The pattern of attacks on 'the Bones' was continuing, but he didn't think a single one of those was a true prophecy, just politicking.

More significantly, it was repeatedly stated that if wizards continued to keep slaves, there would be repercussions. Luna Lovegood had sent in several, and so had Aurora Vane. He was fairly sure that was a pseudonym, but the latest... He didn't know why he had a feeling about certain prophecies and not others. This one was abrupt to the point that it didn't sound like a prophecy at all. _Threaten him with slavery, he'll chop off your heads. _ He didn't think it could be taken literally. All prophesies needed interpretation. He guessed if he found a wizard minus his head, then maybe it _was_ supposed to have been taken literally.

At least those ominous prophecies about the 'One Who Hides,' seemed to have ceased for the time being. Credible sources too, most of them, Granny Abbot was well regarded, and he was beginning to think that 'Aurora Vane,' should be listened to. Even Sybil Trelawney had spoken of 'The One Who Hides,' that if left alone, there was nothing to fear from him. Couched in the usual poetic ambiguities if course. If prophecies were in clear English, it would be too easy.

_Hphphhp._

Ross Davies read in the newspaper that a wealthy philanthropist had decided to donate Hydrotherapy Pools to several towns, and was inviting submissions. He picked up the phone to call someone he knew on Traynor Council, but then had to argue that surely the benefactor would provide sufficient money for maintenance as well as for the initial costs, and even then Denning didn't seem very interested. After some thought, he called someone else he knew, but this one was older, and very likely had aching limbs. She might be more sympathetic to the idea of a warmed pool, especially when he spoke about his poor boy, suffering from a terminal illness.

The 'poor boy' had been amusing himself that afternoon pestering Lionel until Ray had sent him away with a flea in his ear. Lionel had been almost in tears. It was quite obvious Kevin wasn't going to show the slightest gratitude, no matter how much trouble he went to for him. But Ross had always had a soft spot for the tough ones.

***chapter end***


	6. Chapter 6

_Notes for the convenience of readers:__ Harry currently lives at Falmouth, (Cornwall) and attends University. The previous year he was at Kreighley Beach Home, and retains an interest. Kreighley is 3 miles from Traynor, 23 miles from Falmouth. *_

_Disclaime__r: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 6**_:

Harry carefully surrounded himself with Cloaking Magic, as strong as he could make it before walking toward the Burrow through the woods. He wore his wig of long black hair, had accentuated the forehead scar slightly, and had his glasses. Harry Potter, not Lee Chase. He had all senses alert, and wished again for the Invisibility Cloak that had once been his. When he saw the odd crooked house, he couldn't help but smile. He'd loved that house from the moment he saw it. The last time he'd seen it was just before the beginning of fourth year, one last look before he'd been whisked away to Hogwarts. There were differences from the last time he'd seen it. The vegetable patch was far tidier than he remembered, a half falling down toolshed had been replaced with a new one, very large, and there was no livestock, not even poultry. The house was still crooked, but looked fresh and cared for. With only Ginny not independent, he guessed that Arthur's salary must be stretching further these days.

Molly Weasley bustled around, fussing over the pots and pans, assisted by two house-elves borrowed from Bill and Fleur. She was cooking for a very large number of people, and had insisted that every single one be there, all her children, all their partners. It was the school Easter break, so even Ginny was present. She added potion-laced condiments to the food with a generous hand. It was a Conviviality Potion. The effect was not strong, and no-one had ever suspected that the success of her gatherings was partly due to the tolerance, cheer, and 'trust' effects of her 'herbal additives.' It was particularly needed these days, as Fleur and Ginny detested each other, and Annie had loathed the twins ever since they'd made her hair green for a week. Neville was wary of them also, they'd played too many tricks on him over the years.

They were strictly forbidden to prank anybody this time, and she'd added that if Harry came, they were to be very careful with him. She wanted him, and she knew Percy did, but she remembered that he could be a little paranoid about wands aimed at him, and almost certainly still had his knife. She had done everything she could to make the celebration a success.

Harry watched quietly from his unseen position. There was a large sideless awning to keep off the intermittent rain, and he noticed Charlie doing what he assumed were warming charms on the large area under the awning, probably others to keep out the wind. Wizarding gatherings were often held outside, as the needed charms were quite easy. It was possible to conjure a roof, but most wizards would have trouble with something that large, so the awning was probably more conventionally sourced. There were two long tables, and Fleur came out of the house looking annoyed, but then started conjuring attractive matching chairs around the table. He heard Mrs. Weasley call, "And someone set the table."

Ginny appeared, followed by Neville, to Harry's pleasure. Ron's loyalty seemed to come and go, but Neville, in his quiet way, had always been steadfast. He would have been better with Neville as a best friend, rather than Ron.

Carefully, silently, Harry withdrew, circled around again, and walked innocently up the muddy drive.

He was given an enormous welcome, Molly Weasley pulling him close in a hug that seemed all enveloping, and felt like a warm security blanket. Handshakes all around, and Molly said each other person's name, reminding him, as he didn't know Charlie well, and hadn't previously met his wife. She had Fred and George mixed up, but only according to Fred and George. It was Ginny who said sharply, "They're kidding you, Mum. Just being silly."

Harry turned to her with a smile, "You're marrying Neville. I was worried when I thought you might go for Kosan Brooks, it's not a good family."

Ginny replied, "Kosan was always an absolute gentleman, but then I met his family, and didn't like them at all."

Percy was shaking his hand then, and Arthur whispered to Molly, "Maybe a little extra of your special ingredients for Harry?"

"He's still tense, he needs to relax, maybe be a little more trusting."

Arthur nodded, his wife was an expert, but shortly it was the time to make the formal welcome. He reminded all there of the reason for the gathering, to celebrate the renewal and fruitfulness of Spring. Drinks were distributed, Harry made sure not to take the nearest drink just in case, but these ones were all the same. It would be later that his meal was given just a little extra of certain condiments. He didn't detect it, and didn't wonder why he felt happy and perfectly safe. Draco had said that he should not trust anybody, but Draco moved in different circles. He spoke a long time with Neville, met Bill and Fleur's toddler, and thought he hadn't had such good food since the last time that he'd eaten at Molly Weasley's. Even Pansy Parkinson, now Ron's wife, was polite and cheerful.

Molly Weasley looked around at the gathering three hours later, feeling profoundly satisfied. It would start to break up soon, she thought, probably with Bill and Fleur, with little Xaviere. Annie was holding up very well, with the help of a surreptitious sprinkling of anti-nausea potion. Annie refused to use it generally, but that was nonsense of course. You could see how much good it was doing her. She was deep in conversation with Pansy and Ginny at the moment, probably talking about Ginny's plans for her wedding, and whether a Bond Marriage was advisable. Some didn't like them.

And Harry. He and Ron had been such friends, and it was good to see him in excited and happy conversation with him again. They had been such wonderful companions when they were younger, they had so much in common, and they should be friends. Percy was with them, and she wondered if he'd asked for a photograph yet. If Percy married Van Steinway's daughters, then three of her sons would have married into the Vanie, Ron, Charlie and Percy. She'd never thought she and Arthur would do so well for their family. She smiled complacently to herself. The Weasleys had come a long way.

Ron and Harry were still talking about the great game of Quidditch they'd seen together, Bulgaria against Ireland. Percy laughed, "Remember the gold the leprechauns threw? And everyone scrambling for it?"

Ron said mournfully, "I thought I was rich for a bit there." There was no ill feeling behind it now. His marriage to Pansy had made him rich, and he fully expected it to make him influential. It was just a shame that Pansy was not yet pregnant. He glanced proudly over at her. There was no need to feel jealous of anyone now. There was the price of losing his name, but the Weasley name had not been a source of pride for him, not when he'd had to wear hand-me-downs all his life. He still cringed at the thought of the Yule Ball in 4th Year.

Harry was remembering with pleasure the absolute _thrill _of that Quidditch match. He'd been so grateful to the Weasleys for taking him. They really had been good to him.

Bill and Charlie wandered over, and Bill asked, "When did you get the Bracelets off, Harry?"

"A while back now. They were inactive, and in the end, a severing charm worked."

Bill frowned, "You did it yourself?"

"A friend."

"Anything left to you?"

"Any magic do you mean? I don't know whether to claim there is or not. If certain wizards didn't regard me as Muggle, they wouldn't want to take me as a slave."

Percy was puzzled, "That wasn't true, surely!"

"Oh, it's true. I think it must have been Rufus Scrimgeour who had the idea first, and if he hadn't had a heart attack, I suppose I'd be in a slave collar now. And then later, when I was in Hogwarts, Fudge was taking bids, I heard. Jessem McLaggen, Benson Zabini, Henry Steinway..."

Percy interrupted with some indignation, "They are important men, Harry. They wouldn't do anything like that."

"I wouldn't have thought it myself, but Severus told me that about Scrimgeour, and I know I was kept not really knowing anything for several days when I was in St. Mungo's. Before that I'd thought the only danger was that people wanted to kill me."

Ron said, "When you left Hogwarts that second time, after you came from St. Mungo's, there was an enormous fuss, Aurors searching everywhere. Ginny was even asked to try and open the Chamber of Secrets."

"So would that have happened if a patient had merely slipped away a little early?"

Percy said uncertainly, "They felt they had a responsibility. Because you're only a Muggle now, and had to be looked after. It's why they had the Hearing."

"They had the Hearing in order to take away my freedom. If a guardian had been named, and if I didn't manage to escape, I would have been in trouble again." He was speaking soberly now, "I keep hidden, I don't tell anyone where I live, and I move frequently. I will _not_ be a slave."

Percy was frowning at him, and suddenly asked, "Bill? Would anyone really do that?"

"You're a little naive, I think, little brother. It's discreet, but I know for sure some still have them. I've even been offered the use of one, though that was not in this country. It's not illegal on the continent, even the female dominated Sudlan Ministry tolerate it. It's common among unmarried men, and just as common among rich old ones who are tired of their wives. Probably Harry would be regarded as too old normally, but it would be a matter of prestige, I think, - to have the one who used to be so powerful that he killed the Dark Lord, not even a wand. To have him at their mercy... I can easily believe that certain men would enjoy that."

"Henry Steinway. He's Chairman of the Vanie Council, _and_ a member of the Wizemgamot. He is law-abiding. He must be!" Percy's voice had become a little desperate. Like Hermione, he had always been a respecter of rules, a respecter of authority, and tended to believe anything in print. Possession of Muggle slaves had been made illegal in 1926. Even possession of a slave collar carried a severe penalty. To keep slaves, one needed to be almost immune from the law, - like the Vanie families, and even those were not going to be open about it.

Percy looked at the wizard, Harry Potter, shook his head, and looked again, trying to see him as a prospective purchaser might. He was in Muggle clothing, and looked rather sad. Harry looked up, caught his eye, and laughed, "They could be sorry though, if they try to take me. I invariably carry a knife, and I'm expert!"

Percy said seriously, "I don't have much power in the Ministry, not even as much as Dad, and he doesn't have much. But what I do have... I will fight against taking anyone as a slave, wizard or Muggle."

Harry nodded, and said as seriously, "It is a wicked thing, a shameful thing. The more who fight against it, the better."

Fred and George joined them, a little raucous and flushed. They'd been gone for a while, 'checking out the woods.' Harry assumed they'd been drinking, maybe something more powerful than their mother would be happy with. Ginny and Neville had also been absent, seizing the opportunity 'to get to know each other better.'

Harry forgot the serious discussion in listening to the lively gossip of Fred and George, and then Ginny joined then, though Neville was in deep conversation with Arthur Weasley. Ginny started telling him about Luna, who walked around in a dream the whole time, and still somehow managed top marks. He congratulated her again on her engagement to Neville, and Ginny thanked him and said, "Remember he was regarded as a bit of a duffer early on. But then some people actually thought he was brave daring to be so close to you when you were..." she hesitated, "um... _sick? _And then he got his new wand, and suddenly found he was quite a powerful wizard after all. Not that he makes anything of it, I think he'll always be modest and sweet, but he's confident now, as he was not before."

Harry nodded, "Neville's always been a good bloke," and then, curiously, "Did people actually think I might hurt him?"

"Well, reports kept coming in of more and more dead, and then they said you wrecked the hospital wing, - I think there were a few hints dropped from one or two of the teachers as well, at least Lavender said so. And you terrified poor Colin when he tried to take a photo of you... We younger ones were told to keep away, and anyway, you didn't seem to want to talk to anyone."

"I guess not. I don't remember Colin trying to take a photo, but if I'd noticed, it would have upset me. It's not like I was a hero or anything."

Ginny took his hand, and spoke warmly, "It may not have been how you would have chosen, but you _were_ a hero. You defeated the Dark Lord, just as was prophesied before you were even born. We all knew you would, of course."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and then laughed, "I doubt if you all did, and _I_ certainly didn't. I always reckoned if it came to a duel, I didn't have a hope." It had cheered him up, that Ginny could say that. To him it was shame and betrayal, and a bitter hurt. There was a dessert treat distributed, something special that Molly provided, protesting that she would be hurt if anyone abstained, though she didn't seem to worry about Fleur, who said something about her figure, and Arthur, who simply shook his head. Harry wound up having three, to Molly's pleasure, and there was only cheerful talk and laughter after that.

When it was time to go, he accepted the offer of a side-along apparation with Bill without the slightest qualm, though his wariness was not entirely gone. He asked to go to King's Cross station. He could take a train from there, he said.

Back at his home, Harry yawned, feeling sleepy and very contented. The Weasleys were such a close-knit family, always cheerful, always helpful. He had his own family now, of course, and he smiled to himself again, life was very good.

_hphphphp_

Percy called in on his parents a few days later. Ginny was back at school, and no others of the family were there. "You know Mr. Steinway wanted me to take a photograph?"

Arthur said, "You told us."

"After that talk of Muggle slaves, I decided not to even ask him if I could take one."

Molly was surprised, "You were talking about slaves? Not these days, Percy!"

Arthur said, "Sometimes, I'm afraid, Molly."

"Mr. Steinway was displeased with me when I didn't get it, but then we talked for a bit..." He paused, looking at the floor, and finally said, "I won't be marrying into the Steinway family. He didn't bother with pretence, and offered me an enormous sum of money if I managed to arrange to have Harry somewhere he can be taken captive. He does want him, but when I said it was wrong, he threatened me. If I say anything, it will be my job. I either help him, and there will be rewards, or I don't, but I dare not go to the Aurors. It's his word against mine."

Arthur said seriously, "Sometimes we have to be discreet," and Molly asked curiously, "Just how much did he offer?"

Percy told her, but said stiffly, "I'm an honourable man. I would not think of doing that. Not only that it's illegal, but it's Harry. We've befriended him. How many of us would have died if the war had developed as we expected?"

"You used to say he was unstable!"

"Maybe he had reason to be, and then maybe I was mistaken. Anyway, he seems fine now."

Three days later, Molly and Arthur sat by the fire together. Molly was knitting, Arthur reading the paper. Molly said thoughtfully, "Our children are doing well for themselves. They'll be looked up to, but this house..."

"I grew up here. I can't imagine living anywhere else."

"When your Great Uncle Desley dies, you're next in line. You'll be officially Head of House Weasley. We must do our children credit, we must do ourselves credit. Dinner parties, inviting members of the best and oldest families. We'll be recognised as one of them. We may not be noble ourselves, but Charlie's Annie is daughter to Van Artemius Kent, Bill moves in the best circles, and so will Ginny. When Ron's first son turns seventeen, he will be Van Parkinson, and Vanie are always on the Wizemgamot once they turn thirty."

"Not always. Malfoy wasn't."

"Lucius Malfoy had been in trouble with the law. He still had tremendous influence. Ron's son, our grandson, should not have us reflect badly on him. This house... it reflects badly."

Arthur put down his paper, "What are you saying, Molls?"

Molly slowly repeated the figure that Percy had told her, and said, "It is enough to buy a good-sized Manor home as a Pure-blood family should have. Either that, or to totally renovate Desley's home which will be yours. We might even be able to ask for more money if we can arrange the right circumstances."

Arthur was truly shocked at his wife, who only said, "It is for our children, Arthur. It is our duty to help our children as much as we can. It is every parents' duty."

"But Harry!"

"Are slaves unhappy, Arthur?"

"We can't..."

_hphphphp_

Harry went through his correspondence. Ross had sent another report, - the new rooms were in progress for the Stern brothers, Traynor Council was putting together a submission for the Hydrotherapy Pool, with the keen support of three different service clubs, plus the Senior Citizens Club. There had been complaints about his boys walking or riding bikes along the narrow road between Kreighley and Traynor, so the current punishment project was a cement cycle path all the way from Kreighley to Traynor. It was hoped that one of the local service clubs might help with manpower. Ross had added a page _'for your interest,'_ with personal news of other boys, - that Lionel had a girlfriend, that Stephen had had to change his 'Astro Boy' mural because it was a breach of copyright, _'though why the copyright owners care about a toilet block of a small town in Cornwall, I really don't know.' _ That Ethan had been in trouble after a fistfight with a local, and that Mike had spent a night in hospital with concussion and nearly drowning after jumping into the sea from 'Trevanian's Point."

Harry knew Trevanian's Point. It was a high projection of cliff over a deep still pool. To jump in from there, you had to make sure and jump far out, otherwise you were likely to contact the cliff on the way down. They all did it, like it was a trial of manhood, but not in April, when the sea was still very cold. Harry shook his head. He'd done it himself, though really it was just a bit stupid. He reckoned he wouldn't do it now. He had a bit of sense now, he hoped.

Nothing of interest in the paper, and another invitation from the Weasleys, a small and select dinner party, Neville, Tracey and Hermione, plus Charlie and Annie. _'Just eight people including ourselves.'_ And Arthur had added, _'Ron suggested we ask you to a Quidditch game, but we're mindful that you could be in danger in a public place, and I know that Hermione has been itching to get your opinion on a new law that is being proposed, - something about werewolves.' _

Harry was just as careful when he went to the Burrow this time, even to the point that his 'secretary' said that he could probably attend, but was currently out of the country. Again Arthur and Molly said nothing about his unexpected arrival, he had a great time, though there was little of a serious nature discussed.

Tracey said to Hermione after, "It was great to see Harry so relaxed and happy. I don't remember him ever being so carefree."

"I guess he trusts the Weasleys, and he's always appreciated good food."

"I wonder where he lives now. He's very secretive."

"We didn't do much serious talking. I thought we would."

"I think it was me. It's so long since I've felt so well. I couldn't help enjoying it."

Hermione smiled fondly at her very close friend, and said, "Only five months to go. Maybe you're over the worst."

The following day Tracey was quite ill, and Vayden showed her more concern than he had since they returned from their honeymoon. It was two days before the Healer pronounced her well, and the baby fine, but cautioned her to stay very quiet for the remainder of the pregnancy.

_hphphp_

Yet a third gathering at the Weasleys. Harry went without hesitation this time, a lively gathering of young people. There was a lot of laughter, no arguments, and Harry heard some of the gossip that didn't make the paper, that America had had more trouble, this time in the California Aniragia. They'd only had two wandmakers, and now the first was dead, the second vanished, and Arthur said, "Our Ministry has taken a lesson from it. The Obliviation Squad has been strengthened, and extra enchantments added to places like Hogwarts, Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Not just to keep them away, but so that blank areas on maps are just not noticed. I don't understand it much, but the Dpt. of Mysteries has recently been expanded, and I think it's a part of their work."

Harry resolved to spend some money to find out more about the troubles in America, especially as for some reason, the Ministry appeared to be hushing it up. That Muggles were becoming more aware of wizards and their activities was serious news.

Sarah said afterwards that maybe next time she should go, but Harry refused without hesitation. There was no way he was going to expose the one he loved to the machinations and the wickednesses of the wizarding world. And maybe he should look for his information another way. He didn't after all, get a great deal from the Weasleys, it was just that Molly said he belonged, and he always felt so relaxed and happy at the Burrow. But _this_ world, the Muggle world, was the sane world, _his_ world. He should keep track of the happenings in that world, but only for self-protection. But probably the idea of having him as a slave was almost forgotten. He knew from Voldemort's memories that most new boy slaves for sale were around twelve, the girls a little older. He was nearly nineteen.

_hphphp_

Voldemort's large estate had been protected by spells and enchantments second to none. That no Muggle ventured near made it a very useful wizarding area. It was called Albuston, after the late Albus Dumbledore, the revered Leader of the Light. Few people knew that he'd been a lot less noble than he'd always portrayed himself. The orphanage was complete, and Ministry workers began systematically collecting all identified Muggle-born children aged three and younger, obliviating their parents, and advertising the children available for adoption to 'respectable couples.' They were not much desired, as even when a couple were childless, they seldom wanted someone else's children, and certainly not the tainted children of Muggles.

Most of the children would lead a deprived childhood, but the danger of Muggles becoming more aware of wizards was too great. Amelia Bones hadn't decided what to do about older children, although she adamantly refused the suggestion that they be put down, and possibly the parents as well. The decision was firm that from now on, no wizard child would be left with a Muggle family to raise.

There was another change of policy, and Ministry workers visited every family who had raised a wizard, and made them forget their now adult children. The measures taken were not publicised, and there was no need for any new laws. Using the obliviation spell on Muggles was routine, and there had always been provision in place to remove wizard children from Muggle families for their own welfare. It was just that the practice had been tightened.

Hermione was devastated when she was visited by a Ministry worker, and told that her parents would no longer know her. Her protests were expected, and the woman was patient, explaining that the measure had been taken for the Greater Good. When Hermione said that her husband was a Carlyle, and that they wouldn't get away with the crime, she was reminded that trying to renew contact with her parents would be a breach of the International Secrecy regulations, which carried heavy penalties, including a gaol term. The woman finally rose, Hermione still wanting to somehow make it untrue, and the woman added quite casually, "You are their only child and would normally inherit. We will have to tamper with their will, but you can be assured that you will still inherit."

Hermione said coldly, "You have stolen my parents. I do not care about the inheritance."

"You probably will when you think about it. It is only natural," and she left, leaving Hermione staring after her, still scarcely believing the blow.

She had Vayden and Tracey to comfort her, but as she said to Vayden, "They never told anyone. They were _never_ a danger to us."

"It's because of the troubles in America. The penalties for interfering with Muggles have gone up enormously as well. You must be pleased at that."

Neither Vayden nor Tracey were unhappy that Hermione had been separated from her family. The Grangers were Muggles, infinitely far beneath them, though Vayden had been polite when he'd met them.

***chapter end***


	7. Chapter 7

_Notes for the convenience of readers:__ Harry's adoptive parents are Vera and James Chase, his adoptive brothers are Daniel and Jason, both of them also formerly residents of Kreighley Beach Boys' Home. The manager of the Home is Ross Davies, his wife is Helen. _

_Disclaime__r: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 7**_:

Vera Chase smiled warmly on Sarah and Lee, visiting for the weekend. Lee was relaxed and happy, and she enjoyed noticing the warm touches between them that they thought went unseen. Lee wasn't even eighteen until October, but she had a feeling the marriage wouldn't be far behind. They were to be in separate rooms as a matter of form. She wondered which one they'd sleep in, but maybe she was doing them a disservice. They might consider it a breach of courtesy to share a bed in her home.

She said generally, "Ross Davies wants to talk to us, so I invited he and Helen to dinner tonight."

Daniel said, "You said that Ross wanted something?"

"He's asked if we'd be willing to foster a boy for a month. He's thirteen, and has been very badly abused. He hasn't told me any details, only that the rowdy atmosphere of Kreighley is too much for him at the moment. I think we should talk about it as a family."

Harry grinned, "You gave me that sort of refuge for a week, and look what happened!"

Vera extended a hand to him, and said, "And I'd never change that!"

Daniel asked a little anxiously, "You're not thinking of adopting him?"

"I have three sons, and I love each of them very much. But I think three will do."

Daniel theatrically wiped his brow, "Good. I think three's enough as well."

Jason pushed at him, "Don't be selfish. And Mum's told me that love is extendible, that it can stretch as far as needed."

Harry looked up, "Mum said that?" and Vera's heart turned over. She treasured those times when Lee called her Mum, though when he did, it usually seemed accidental. He was still far more reserved than the two younger boys. She said casually, "It will stretch further when you boys provide me with grandchildren, but still, I don't want any more boys right now, especially not one with behavioural problems."

"So what does he do?"

"I don't know yet."

They learned a lot more that evening, although the conversation was general until they were drinking their coffee. But then Ross started talking about his boys, and Harry learned more about those he didn't know.

"Ryan, he's very bright, - he's one of the former streetkids and was the leader. He's fourteen. There's also Peter, who's settled down nicely, but the third one, Christian. He seemed to be fine, but then he had a wicked fight with Ryan, who was quite badly hurt, and cleared out. He's going to be a real problem that one, but it appears not for me. A very bad start in life of course. Fairly casually looked after by distant relatives in the refugee Sudanese community."

Harry was keenly interested, and suddenly thought that this was what he wanted to do with his life, - give boys a chance who'd never had much of a chance. He asked, "Kevin?"

Ross grinned, "I think he _nearly_ thanked me yesterday, but then caught himself. It's as if showing gratitude might be a weakness. But he's happier, and I think feeling more secure. Aaron's trying to act the big brother now, and his real brothers loathe him for it. Kevin is _theirs_, they seem to think, and no-one's taking him away."

Harry suddenly laughed, "For a moment there, I was thinking I'd like to do what you do, but how to handle something like that... I'd have no idea."

"Quite often you can't do anything at all. Just cross your fingers, wait and hope. I think you'd be very good at doing what I do, and at least there's no chance you're attracted to the field for the wrong reasons."

"Like Burgess, you mean?"

"It never went further than a bit of fondling, and once he found young Adrian alone and tried to kiss, though I didn't know about that until after. Anyway, two more boys quickly appeared and refused to leave. But now he's marked, and I hope he won't have the chance again."

Helen said viciously, "Men like that, they should be castrated. To think we had him to dinner... He seemed a _nice_ man!"

James said seriously, "This Paul. You're not going to tell us he's been through something like that, have you?"

"He was skin and bone, nearly dead when he was found. As far as we know there was no sexual abuse."

Sarah exclaimed, "The Cupboard Kid!"

Harry asked, "Is that right, Ross? The one in the papers?"

"One of a family of five. Why they turned on this one is a mystery. He used to be allowed out, but it's thought he hadn't been out for years."

"Was he _literally _kept in a cupboard?"

"He was kept in the basement, the cupboard was against a wall, with some stinking bedding inside, and he was chained to it, a chain secured to his wrist. He doesn't talk, and is terrified of everything. He's spent several weeks in hospital, but now he's to come to me, as we're about the smallest Boys' Home there is. But it's too big and noisy for him. He needs something quieter to begin with."

James and Vera looked at each other, and James said, "He sounds a problem. We're not special people, and this one, - I think he needs very special people."

Harry said quietly, "I think I might have narrowly escaped being a cupboard kid. Probably all he needs is time. He won't misbehave. He won't dare."

Ross asked, "What do you mean you narrowly escaped?"

"I was five. There was another boy, but he was spoilt rotten, and preparations were being made for him to start school. Nothing was said about me, and I didn't dare ask. But they said to the other boy that he was to work hard, so that one day he'd have a good job like his Dad's. It's important to go to school, so I slipped out of the house and went to three neighbours, whom I'd never spoken to in my life, said who I was and where I lived, and told them I didn't know whether I was going to school because I was a Freak."

He'd been looking down, almost mumbling. Ross said in a carefully dispassionate tone, "It may have been some self-protective instinct, that neighbours should know you existed."

"I could never work out why they didn't simply send me to an orphanage as it was obvious they didn't want me."

Sarah asked softly, "So what happened?"

"One of the neighbours visited and asked about the other boy, the one they never saw. So I was called, and the woman said something about me being a problem, and retarded. I spoke up and said I'd be very good, I promise. That I didn't think I was retarded, though I may have said 'tarded' or something, as I didn't have much practice at speaking. So there was a sort of sickly smile, and they said that of course I'd be going to school. The neighbour nodded, looked at me very carefully, and left. So then I was thrashed for talking to the neighbours, and a few days later, the man rang up and did the enrolment, with me hiding close, and listening carefully. It's when I found out my birthday. I was also told that I _liked_ to sleep in a cupboard as it was cosy, and if I ever said different, I'd be very sorry."

"You slept in a cupboard?"

"The big cupboard under the stairs, from when I was little until I was eleven. The odd thing was that I did quite like my cupboard. No-one ever bothered me when I was quiet there, and I could hear almost everything that was going on."

"Like a dog in its kennel," commented Daniel.

Ross asked, "Were you ever locked in?"

"When I misbehaved, but not really very often or for more than a few days. I accepted it as normal, but I didn't like the thrashings, and a few years later, very bravely went and spoke to a policeman. And then that stopped too. I was still despised, but I could live with that."

Vera said softly, "Nearly a cupboard kid."

"I don't know for sure, of course, just that the other boy was equipped with brand-new school-bag, photos taken of him in his brand-new uniform, and nothing about me, though he was hardly any older than me."

Ross said, "So you learned that it's _not_ best to do whatever you're told."

"I guess."

"Is that how you escaped the later abuse? Refusing to go along with what you were told?"

Harry grinned, but was red-faced, "Sorry, I've told enough for a while." Sarah squeezed his hand, and both Helen and Vera looked as if they were trying not to cry.

James asked, "Vera? Will we try this Paul?"

Vera nodded, and then mumbled something and hurriedly left the room. Harry looked after her undecided, and James said, "Lee?" Harry quickly went after her.

Vera was staring out the window, trying to stifle sobs. Harry went to her, holding her close and soothing. He was taller than she was, though not by a great deal. He would never be tall. She finally sniffed and asked, "How can there be people like that in the world?"

"I don't know. The people who had me didn't appear to be bad people in any other way, just ordinary. It was just me. They wouldn't harm any other child. These ones... Didn't Ross say the other four children were all treated normally? It was just Paul."

"Animals sometimes spurn one of a litter. It's usually said that they detect something wrong with them, and do it instinctively."

"Well, people are animals too. Maybe they do detect something wrong, or maybe only different. Or maybe if it's not blood kin, they smell different, alien."

"We'll take this Paul?"

"It's the leadup to exams. I can study just as well here as I can there. I'll spend more time here, help where I can." He squeezed her again, "You'll be fine, Mum. I can't see you messing up. And remember, you don't have to be perfect. If you're just reasonably nice to him, he'll think you're wonderful! Just like I do. You're my Mum now."

"I like being your Mum, but I don't mind when you call me Vera."

Harry grinned a little ruefully, "Even now, while I mostly think of you as Mum, it makes me feel very awkward to use the word."

_hphphphp_

The next invitation to the Weasleys was declined, _'due to a prior engagement.'_ Molly told Henry Steinway that he may very likely attend, - just that he still preferred not to give warning. Steinway nodded, "We'll spring the trap then. Just myself and one of my sons. I prefer to be discreet in this climate."

"Of course, Mr. Steinway. I entirely understand."

When Harry didn't turn up, Steinway was annoyed, but Molly was furious and the next time she saw them, she blamed Fred and George, "You must have frightened him last time, waving your wands about!"

The twins were a little puzzled, and George asked, "Did we wave our wands about, Fred?"

"Demonstrating the monkey trick, remember? And then the hamster. But we never aimed at Harry."

Molly said, "He's very timid these days. A Muggle among wizards. He's easily frightened. You should not even _show_ him your wand."

George grinned, and when Molly stamped off, he murmured to Fred, "_I'd_ like to show him my wand."

"He could be rather tempting, - in that context."

"We don't dare. Imagine what it would do to sales of the 'Child of Light' poster, not to mention our reputation."

"But what was she talking about? I didn't even know she'd planned an entertainment."

_hphphphp_

As Harry had forecast, Paul Knight, the 'Cupboard Kid' as the newspapers had dubbed him, did anything he was told, nervously anxious not to get into trouble. The social worker had explained the evidence gleaned from the police, that unusually, it was the woman who'd been the chief abuser, taking to him with a whip whenever she chose. He was less frightened with Daniel, Jason or Harry than he was with Vera. He seemed uncertain about James, casting him anxious looks, and tending to hide behind whichever of the boys was closest. From the start, he'd been told that he was to live with the Chases for just one month until he was stronger, and then go to the Boys' Home that all three of the Chase boys had belonged to.

He was put in the spare bed of Harry's room, and was like a silent shadow whenever he was home. Ten days after he arrived, he sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, watching Harry as he studied. He said quietly, so that Harry scarcely heard, "I had brothers, and a sister too, but they were not allowed to speak to me."

Harry replied, not looking at Paul, who still shied away from direct attention, "We were told the only time any of them were thrashed was when they went near you, or spoke about you. But then Mark and Tom did anyway, in spite of being frightened that they'd be locked away as well. So that's when you were found. No-one deserves to be treated like you were, though they probably said you did. And being punished all the time... It makes you think that you somehow deserve it, though of course you don't at all."

The timid voice, "Mark and Tom. There was the baby as well, and Violet. She was a girl, but I scarcely remember her."

"Did you ever go to school?"

"I was supposed to be starting soon. But I did something, I don't know what, and the man dragged me downstairs, and then when I woke up, I had a chain and couldn't get away."

"You probably didn't do anything, or nothing serious. It is very, very unusual, what they did to you. Lots of kids are badly treated. Jason was, and I was, but being locked away... It means you have a lot of catching up to do."

"Lee, do you think I can get to be like an ordinary boy?"

Harry turned to face him, and for a change the skinny boy didn't cringe away. Harry said quietly, "I can only judge by myself. It made me feel as if I wasn't worth as much as other people. I have to make an effort sometimes to think I'm as important as anyone else. And I think I'm smaller than I should have been, and that's because I didn't get enough to eat when I was younger. But I went to school, and you didn't. You'll need to learn that most people are good, and you'll need to learn to read, and all the things you should have learned between the ages of five and thirteen."

It was hard to think of the boy as thirteen. He was so small, and the way he held himself made him look smaller. Paul nodded, and said in a small voice, "I'll try."

"Would you like to start learning to read, or would you prefer to start learning to swim?"

"Can I have an ice-cream?"

It was the first time he'd asked for anything, and maybe it was a sort of test, as he watched nervously for the reaction. Harry said, "I'll check the freezer. If there's none there, do you want to walk to the corner store with me?"

"Am I too big to hold your hand?"

"You're not too big."

"Can we go out then?"

Paul held very tight to Harry's hand, not even letting go when Harry had trouble opening his wallet one-handed. Vera asked when they returned, "Been out, boys? Next time, check with me first would you? I could have done with more milk."

Paul looked hopefully at Harry, and Harry asked, "Do you want to go back now Paul, or maybe later?"

Paul answered decidedly, "In an hour. Can we go back in an hour?"

"You might have to remind me then. I might forget when I'm studying."

"You have exams. Someone said."

"That's right. A History exam tomorrow. But I'll have holidays soon, and then I'll be home for longer. Vera says that even after you go to Kreighley, you can still visit here sometimes for weekends."

"You won't come to Kreighley, will you?"

"Ross says he'll introduce a couple of the boys to you before you go, so you'll know people there."

Paul's voice was scarcely audible, "I don't have to go yet, do I?"

"If it comes time, and you don't want to go, you can ask. But I think you'll like it there. Not only that, but I think you need the other boys. They look after each other."

"Can I really ask?"

"You can ask. You may not be given what you ask for, but you can ask."

Paul nodded. He'd made a couple of big advances that day. He'd been talking, if only to Harry, and he'd gone out of the house. It was the first time in many years that he'd been outside, just that time when he'd been carried from house to ambulance, and from hospital to the Chase's car. And each time he'd been rigid with terror. He felt quite pleased with himself.

_hphphhp_

At the beginning of July, Ross Davies arrived with the small Kreighley bus to pick up Paul. With him were Warren Stern and Adrian Flanders, both recently turned twelve, the youngest of his boys. They knew about Paul, not everything, just that he hadn't been to school, and was not as strong as he should be. They'd promised to try and look after him. Both Daniel and Jason were also going with him, and would stay a few nights. They were excited, looking forward to being there again.

Harry wished he could visit as well. He would have liked to meet young Kevin Stern, who was reported to have thawed out considerably, and he was interested in Ryan Keen, whom Ross expected would become leader once he was a little older. Paul tugged at Harry's hand, and when Harry bent down, asked whether he would visit sometimes. Harry replied that he'd see him when he visited the Chases, but it was not safe for him to go there, and reminded him, "I told you there were men who wanted to find me."

Paul nodded, "I'm not to tell anyone about you."

"They'll look out for you. It's a good place, Kreighley."

Paul nodded, and marched off in a determined manner, taking his place between Daniel and Jason.

Vera, James and Harry waved as they left, and Vera put her arm around Harry, and said, "You did a good job."

"I didn't do anything. He just needed some time to understand that what he went through is not normal."

"Should we adopt him, do you think?"

"If you want, but not yet. I think he needs the other boys more right now. And they're very loyal, they'll look out for him."

"Dan said there's always fights among them."

"When Paul picks a fight because they act as if he's a baby, then you know he's better. But right now, if anyone does pick on him, Nick'll soon sort them out, or Malcolm maybe." He grinned at Vera, "We're the Kreighley boys. We look out for each other."

Vera laughed and hugged him.

A few days later, Kevin locked the wheels of his chair, pulled himself up, and looked around. He was supposed to do just as much for himself as he could, but his legs were apt to become acutely tired quite suddenly, and then he'd want his chair. He noticed the new boy, and said, "You, Paul. I want you to stay beside me and push the wheelchair in case I need it."

Paul rushed to do as he was told, thrilled that there was someone who appeared weaker than himself.

Kevin nodded at him when he was no longer needed, and said, "Thank you." It was the first time he'd thanked anyone for a long time, but it was the 'cupboard kid' who'd had a rotten deal in life.

After that, Paul was one of the retinue of Kevin's followers, to Ross's amusement. Maybe in a few years it would not be the best fighter who became the boys' unofficial leader, but the one in a wheelchair.

_hphphp_

Luna Lovegood woke with a start, the image still dancing in front of her eyes. Harry Potter but bigger now, exuding power, black hair dishevelled, a large sharp knife in his hand, moving with an icy cold deliberation. The words came to her, _I will never be a slave! _And then blackness, all enveloping, and she saw three male bodies stretched out on the floor. She was breathing quickly, wondering who to warn. But the context... Of course Harry Potter should not be a slave. He was a wizard. If he killed those men, maybe they deserved it. She shivered. It was Harry, who'd looked so utterly shocked when his name had been drawn for the Triwizard Tournament, who'd appeared to her in a dream the night of Cerlikh, looking like an angel, all glowing white, who'd been guarded like a wild animal for those weeks afterwards, and whose magic had been taken from him by the wicked man who'd been the headmaster. Had he ever attacked anyone without cause? All he'd ever done was fight back when attacked. She'd once seen Hermione drag him away from Draco Malfoy, 'He's not _worth_ it!' How many boys would have taken the slightest notice of _that?_

She sighed. She would make no specific warning. If Harry hurt somebody, maybe they deserved it. She worked on her prophecy, wording it in vaguely rhyming ambiguities, with the message that a civilised community of Anirage would have no reason to fear Muggles.

On Monday, Draco Malfoy briefly scanned the headlines of the Daily Prophet, and then turned to the prophecies. His father had been correct. The trends to be read in the page of prophecies could be very valuable. And besides, quite often, they made him laugh. There were usually between five and fifteen. He suspected that probably the editor made up a few if there were not enough, and probably just dropped a few if there were too many.

_'Two blackbirds, three swans, and the blue swallow, Midsummer and the end is near.'_ Sybil Trelawney, who viewed herself as a heroine since she'd made the prophecy that resulted in the defeat of Voldemort. The name of the Seer was always attached, so that readers had some idea how much significance to place on what was said.

'_Bones, bones, deddy bones. Ready, steady, deddy bones. Interfering bones, splintering bones, deddy bones'. _Just another attack on Amelia Bones, the Minister for Magic. Draco thought that she should be very careful. They may not be genuine prophecies, but the threat was quite genuine.

'_Giants and elves, Giants and selves. The giants are on the move.' _ Well, that was nonsense, Draco thought. There were no giants left, and a jolly good thing. When he thought about it, all the magical species were declining in numbers. Not the goblins as far as he knew. There were still plenty of goblins.

Another in poor rhyme: '_An hour they lie helpless, An hour to regret their plight. An hour to count their crimes, An hour to feel the strike. Take the warning, Heed the warning, For next time, it is night.' _Draco checked the name of the Seer, Aurora Vane.

But he laughed over the next one, _'The Bad Faith Scion and the Child of Light. They will come together in passion and in love. And the Light will be Dominant, the fair one the Sub. Together they ride, together they love, together they defeat the evil of our time.'_ He and Harry! Together! He might think that Harry had been poorly treated, might be annoyed at the idea that he could be enslaved, but they wouldn't be doing anything together, he was positive about that! And Sub? Dominant? He wasn't quite sure what that was about... Only that it sounded like someone thought that Harry should be giving him orders. He, Van Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter, the disreputable Half-blood who knew nothing of the world, who scarcely knew how to dress. The author, _'Cat's eyes watching.'_ He shook his head, and went on to the next.

_'Lovely, lovely Linley Jones. Lonely, lonely Linley Jones. See the beauty, see the charm, - and run!' _Granny Abbott. He wondered what she was thinking about, Granny Abbott had a reputation as the most reliable Seer of their world, but this one... It certainly sounded like nonsense!

He didn't bother reading any more, especially not the one by 'Luny' Lovegood. He yawned and turned back to the more serious pages, then to the various reports from his business managers. These were always more informative than the newspapers, whose news could never be trusted.

Sybil Trelawney tutted angrily when she read over her prophecy as reported. Prophecies were serious magic, and should _never_ be abbreviated. There was a mistake as well, it was _two _swans, not three. Why did no-one understand the importance of exact wording? But no-one had taken any notice of her since dear Albus had died. She always knew which of her prophecies were True Prophecies. They were the ones she had trouble remembering to begin with. Sometimes it was several days before she knew she had it right. She looked again at her copy of the careful note of the full prophecy she'd sent in to the newspaper,

_The dragon's fire comes, flaming and raw, nothing will stand in its way._

_The end of our world, the end of our law, the end._

_First black, then light's ray. Two blackbirds hold sway,_

_Two swans and the blue swallow, all in a day._

_Midsummer, and the end is near. Too late, gone is our day._

_The dragon's fire comes. The dragon's fire comes.'_

She wondered if she should send it direct to the Hall of Prophecies, but old Doge had always refused to accept them from her. She opened a new bottle of sherry and decided not to bother about any of them any more. They should respect her more. They _should_ respect her more.

Wallace Pettit was also checking the list of prophecies, a few that came direct, but most from the Daily Prophet, who obligingly dropped from the list any that they'd made up themselves. They were usually easy to pick in any case, always in quite elegant rhyming couplets, much more polished than the rough thing inserted by Aurora Vane. He'd come to think there was something in that one's words, even though he now knew him to be the same as Bob McCardle, whom no-one had ever taken much notice of. Bob was around forty, stocky and red-faced, and far from anyone's idea of a typical Seer. But even if his words held truth, what could one do? Most so-called prophecies either didn't come true, turned out to mean something entirely different to what was assumed, and if it was a true prophecy, it was going to happen in any case. Pettit was beginning to understand the actions of the previous incumbents of his position, - devising the interesting magic to record the prophecies, but never actually taking any action.

_hphphph_

It was a very warm day. Sarah and Harry wandered the gardens of his home. They could not be called well-tended, but the neighbour who used his acres to run his herd of cattle, tended his garden in return, though only to the extent of mowing lawns and keeping unruly bushes trimmed. A couple of dead trees had been removed as well, and he was talking about the orchard, that all it needed was a little attention to be profitable. The arrangement suited them both, and Harry's property was no longer conspicuous by its air of neglect.

Harry mentioned, "I've accepted an invitation to a small celebration at the Weasleys, a pre-wedding celebration for Ginny."

"Ginny. She's the one used to have a crush on you."

"It was an embarrassment for a time, but she got over it. And Neville was one of my dorm-mates, so I know him well. I'll take a wedding present."

"You're not thinking of going to the wedding, are you?"

"Of course not. There'd be far too many people. But afterwards, would you like to travel? I have properties, one on the South Coast of France, two apartment buildings in Paris, two left in America, though one's up for sale, one in Australia, which I plan to keep. Blocks of units here and there. I should look at them before deciding which to keep and which to sell."

"That sounds rather fun." She grinned, "Here my family were thinking I'd taken up with riffraff, and you're far richer than my father."

"I was fifteen before I had any idea, though I certainly should have been told, and only knew the extent of it once I was seventeen."

"I still forget you're eighteen, nineteen in a few weeks."

"So do I most of the time. I'm Lee Chase, and the other part is from a distant life. But I'll have to tell Vera and James soon, at least about the money, and probably the Tom Foundation, since they're to be trustees if I die."

_hphphp_

They slept together that night, using a secondary bedroom. The luxurious Master Suite made Harry uneasy. The Potter Heads of House had slept there for hundreds of years, the family never very numerous, and with an unfortunate tendency to die fighting. Harry didn't like fighting, and thought that he'd like to grow old and watch Sarah's children and grandchildren grow up.

He didn't often have nightmares, but that night he did, and he half-woke to Sarah's soothing words and caresses. His breathing calmed and he said what he'd been thinking for a long time, "If I survive long enough, will we marry?"

Sarah answered firmly, "As long as you allow me to help you survive long enough. No keeping me in the dark."

Harry gave a sleepy chuckle, "I wouldn't dare. But we have to talk about children. I must not have children, you see."

"We'll talk about that in the morning," and Harry went to sleep while Sarah thought. She knew that he said he didn't want to be a part of wizardry, and yet he always read the Aniragi newspapers, usually quite thoroughly, had lamented the fact that Sirius no longer wanted to know him, and had accepted the Weasley invitation. She suspected there was a part of him that did look for the world he'd lost. He said that Muggle/wizard pairs almost always had wizard children. She turned on her side away from him, but with her back in contact. There was no hurry. They were only teenagers. She smiled. If she'd been wanting a romantic proposal with candlelight and an engagement ring, she would have been disappointed, but the truth was that for a long time, there had been the tacit assumption that the relationship was to be permanent.

The following morning, Harry was up early, and even before breakfast, he was looking through his father's bureau, remembering that there had been pairs of rings in a drawer. But they were mostly rather showy, screaming wealth. It might have been tradition, maybe they were made by elves in the twelfth century or something, but he'd never known the Potters, and the world of Anirage was not his world. That day, they went shopping together for a ring, and during an evening dinner at a very good restaurant, Harry slipped the engagement ring on Sarah's finger, and kissed her.

She smiled, "So now we simply ensure that you survive long enough."

"I love you, Sarah. I will try very hard to survive long enough."

They had to visit Vera and James, plus Sarah's Mum, and accept their congratulations. Gayle Lassiter was loud in her admiration of the ring, a quite simple band of diamonds and emeralds, very expensive, yet not showy and without protruding stones that might catch on things. Sarah was practical even in her choice of ring.

Then Sarah's father, who was surprised and quite pleased at the unexpected visit, and totally failed to notice the ring until it was brought to his attention. Tremaine Lassiter had a good eye for jewellery, being in the custom of bestowing an attractive and quite expensive 'Friendship ring' on each of his girlfriends a week or so before he dismissed them. He hadn't had to trouble with Aimee, who'd packed up and left soon after Harry and Sarah's visit in January. His quick assessment of the price of the ring was surprisingly accurate, and he was pleased at the compliment to his daughter.

Harry hadn't been looking forward to it, but that evening he admitted to Vera and James that he had access to a great deal of money, "Something from my old life, an inheritance from my birth parents."

They showed little surprise, and James asked if it was risky to access it. He replied that it didn't seem to be, only that Lee Chase could not be identified as having a large amount of wealth for fear of rousing interest where it was unwanted.

Vera commented, "I'm surprised you were so badly treated as a child then."

"They never knew. I didn't know myself when I was with them. It was only much later."

Vera and James waited, but instead of explaining any more, he said that there was enough put away in the Tom Foundation to provide a home for Kevin Stern at Kreighley even when he was adult, and that if he was killed or disappeared, that he wanted them to be trustees, along with Ross and Helen Davies.

Vera said calmly, "Of course we will, love. And don't worry about the rest. When you're ready, you can explain. We will never pressure."

Harry reddened, "I don't think my real parents could possible be as terrific as my adoptive parents. You will never know how grateful I am."

"I don't think we'll say anything to the other boys. Maybe when they're a little older."

"It's not that I like keeping secrets..."

"I know dear. Would you like me to make you some coffee?"

Harry had been standing, but now dropped into a chair with an air of relief, "I would like that."

***chapter end***


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 8:**_

When Molly Weasley had had Henry and Archer Steinway waiting to take Harry, none of her family had been in attendance. She wondered if it had been that factor that had frightened him off. This time, most of the family were to be there, with the exceptions of Bill, Charlie and their wives, who were heavily pregnant and no longer socialising. Percy was there, but would be alone. He still wanted to marry, and was torn between offers from the House Landen and the House Smythe, both Pure-blood families, but not in the league of the Steinways. He was still hoping for an offer from one of the Vanie families, but there was no denying that House Weasley did not have a good reputation among the Pure-blood families.

Ron and Pansy were giggling together in a corner. Their Marriage Bond was still strong. Ginny and Neville exchanged warm glances, and their fondness for each other was obvious. They'd decided not to have a Bond Marriage. According to Ginny, they loved each other, and didn't need it. Bond Marriages were common among the Pure-bloods, but far less so among the Mixed-bloods, who were the majority of the wizard population.

Molly glanced again at the reply from Harry's secretary, that he was expected to return today, and if so, would _'probably'_ be able to attend. _'Whether able to come or not, he appreciates the invitation.'_ Molly's hopes were high, and she had her assortment of condiments out and ready. The plan was different this time. Arthur was to use an excuse to take him into the new workshop where the Steinways were to be waiting, but she was to only call them if Harry did turn up.

From a hidden place, Harry watched the activities under the large marquee. He always felt perfectly safe and very welcome at the Weasleys, but had made a rule for himself that he must never let his guard down. He was in light Muggle clothing, and he wore his knives, one on his hip, and a small flick-knife hidden in a sock.

Fred and George were obviously telling jokes as they set the table, making cutlery and crockery zoom around and dance in the air before arriving roughly in their places. Percy bustled over officiously, "Mum says that if Harry comes, you're to use no magic at all."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," replied the twins, in bored tones.

Percy continued watching them with a slight frown on his face, and then shrugged and returned to conjuring business-like chairs to set around the table.

Harry backed silently away, apparated to a place near the bus-stop, and started walking up the drive. Ginny called, "Harry's here," and ran to him exuberantly, then hesitated and said politely, "You can give me a hug of congratulation if you like. This time next week, I'll be Neville's wife."

Harry grinned and hugged her, "You couldn't have chosen a better man for yourself." He stepped back and bowed, using the exact correct inclination, "As a token of the joyous occasion, will you accept this offering from House Potter?"

Ginny laughed, accepted the gift, and asked, "Just where are you learning all the pompous etiquette of the so-called 'Best' families, Harry?"

"Someone sent me a book, obviously thought my Muggle heritage was showing too much."

"Not much Muggle. You're a descendant of two lines of Vanie. The Wikans are the leading House of the Europe."

"Who told you that?"

"We see quite a bit of Sirius. He's been telling everyone, but also that you refuse to see them."

Harry shrugged, "They haven't asked, and why should they? I'm just the grandson of the little girl they abandoned in a foreign country."

"Thank you for the gift, but I won't open it now, just put it with the other gifts."

They were walking toward the house, and soon Harry was greeting Neville, the twins, and being enveloped in Molly's warm embrace. He thought for a moment that something could be wrong, but then Neville was greeting him, and Percy was smilingly handing around some 'barely alcoholic' Pixie Tumbles, which he said were traditional for pre-wedding celebrations. Harry started to really enjoy himself.

Meantime, Molly contacted the Steinways, and cautioned, "An hour yet, it would be best if he's a little slower of reaction first."

Arthur slipped back into the kitchen after a time, where she was organising another 'special treat.' She asked, "Well?"

"He declines anything he doesn't see everyone else eating, but he's had several drinks and seems totally relaxed. I can't see any problem."

Harry was with Ron and Percy. Percy was talking seriously about the declining population of house-elves, "They're just not breeding, no-one knows why. The Ministry only has three left, but they never do well when not with their particular family." Ron was paying no attention, his eyes following Pansy who was in close conversation with Ginny. Harry's attention was also straying; he wasn't in the mood for serious conversation. He wanted to laugh and have fun. He could trust the Weasleys. He almost felt a little dreamy in the warmth of the Summer afternoon. He made an effort, and asked, "Are house-elves very long-lived?"

"Not very. Usually they live until around fifty, but quite often the females die giving birth along with the bub. They have a tendency to become irrational as well, sometimes to the point they have to be put down."

"The only house-elf I've known had a loose screw, I thought."

"A loose screw, Harry?" queried Arthur, joining them.

"Not the full quid."

Arthur still looked puzzled, and Harry said, "He was over-excitable, well intentioned, but very poor at logical thinking."

"Aaah... I see. Talking of loose screws, I want to show you something I've just acquired. It's a CVR, and it's supposed to show pictures. Maybe you can show me how it works."

Harry wrinkled his brow, a CVR? He queried, "Could it be a VCR, Arthur?"

"Yes, that's it."

Harry had often wondered whether the mispronunciation of Muggle terms among wizards was an affectation merely to underscore their utter superiority to the inferior species, but Arthur's frequent confusions seemed genuine. Perfectly willingly, he walked with the ginger-haired man to the big new toolshed, and remarked, "You've been making improvements."

Arthur's voice was strained as he answered, but Harry didn't alert to it, and walked through the door straight after Arthur. Before he'd even registered that they were not alone, he heard a snapped _"Stupify!"_ and hurled himself to the floor, rolling and dodging, his knife already in his hand. He threw, his aim helped by magic, and his attacker yelled as it buried itself in his right forearm. He dropped his wand, but Harry was already having to dodge another spell sent by Steinway. Harry called, "Arthur, help me!"

Arthur held his wand, but not aiming. Harry dodged again, frantically, and threw a second knife, this one conjured, but missed. The injured man grabbed at him with his left arm, hindering him momentarily, and he turned and threw a punch. Another spell, but this time, he dodged, and it was the first attacker who dropped unconscious. Harry growled his utter fury, and went for Steinway shielding the stun spell this time, grabbing him and hitting hard, sending a spell as he did so. His fist would not have been sufficient to knock him out, but his spell was.

He stooped, picked up the wand, and broke it across his knee, then looked at Arthur, who was staring at him, his wand still not aimed, either at him or his attackers. Harry was still unsure whether he was allied with his attackers, and he queried, "Arthur?"

Arthur raised his wand, now aiming at Harry, but he apologised, "I'm sorry, Harry. It's Molly... she made me. For the family, you see..."

Harry said coldly, "Was I to be killed or enslaved, Arthur?"

Arthur said pleadingly, "Mr. Steinway will treat you very well. You'll be happy enough." His aim became a little more purposeful, but before he could make the incantation, he too, dropped to the floor.

Harry regarded the three bodies around him, and shuddered when he saw a slave collar sitting on an immaculately clean island bench. So close. All it would have taken was for one stun spell to hit him, then a collar would be around his neck, possibly already with the enchantments that had him ready to adore his new master. But maybe not. He didn't know much about slave spells, even with Voldemort's knowledge, but he thought that it needed additional spells using bodily fluids, his blood and a little of the new master's for instance. There were all sorts of variations, and Voldemort hadn't been much interested in the slave spells.

He glanced toward the door, thinking that he should have noticed the feel of the Silencing Spell as he'd walked through it, but he'd been oblivious. He picked up Arthur's wand and broke it across his knee, then the wand belonging to the younger wizard with the bleeding arm. He recognized the older man, - Henry Steinway, Chairman of the Vanie Council, with more true power than the Minister for Magic. He'd been introduced once. Wizards never attacked each other's wands. Even in a battle, when wizards were stunned or otherwise stopped, few thought to take their wands. The result was that they'd revive, or someone else would undo the spell, and they'd straightaway be as dangerous as they were before. Wizards often fought quite stupidly.

He shook his head. What was the matter with him? Maundering about wizard stupidity when he should be taking action! For the first time he wondered if he could have been drugged, but he was always so careful...

Three men unconscious, Arthur Weasley with no reason observable. He had to think clearly. It was still vitally important that they not know he had magic. Moving deliberately, he went to Arthur Weasley, took aim, and kicked him hard on the chin. Now when he woke, there would be a bruise to give a physical reason for a period of unconsciousness. He kicked the other two as well, making the bruises they bore more severe. His fist was not normally effective enough to instantly knock out a man, though he hoped they would think so.

His eyes scanned the workshop until he found some rope. With some effort, he dragged the three wizards into a row, tying their hands to a railing on the wall, and then tying feet to a rope that he wound right around the big bench in the centre of the large shed. He wanted them lying on their backs, unable to move. Arthur was in the middle. The one he didn't know quite suddenly opened his eyes. Harry pulled his knife from the man's arm, ignoring the cry of pain and the sudden flow of blood, showed it to him, and stated in a calm voice, "You tried to take me as a slave, presumably for sex. Your punishment will fit the crime."

Moving deliberately, he coldly used his knife to slash open the man's robes and expose genitals. The man stared at the knife, struggled against the ropes, and yelled for help. Harry ignored him, only doing the same to Steinway. He glanced back at the yelling one, and said, "This will hurt, and I'm a merciful man. I think I'd best knock you out again." The yelling became a scream, and the struggles more desperate.

Carefully, Harry measured up the yelling, struggling man, and kicked again, at the same time sending a stunning spell. Then he did as he'd planned, carefully tracing a shallow cut around the genitals, taking care not to go deep over the femoral arteries, then poured on some Turpentine to make it hurt more. He wanted them to think the worst. Really, Arthur's well equipped workshop was ideal for this kind of activity. He did exactly the same to Steinway, who still hadn't stirred, then adjusted the slave collar around his neck. It needed magic to fasten, so he had to leave it loose, but if the Aurors were called, it would make it clear just exactly what the man had intended. A sterilisation spell would not be visible, and he was beginning to think that few wizards deserved children. It only took a scant second of attention on each.

Molly wondered that Arthur hadn't returned, but remembered how reluctant he'd been to go along with her plans, and thought he was probably brooding alone, maybe an attack of remorse. It was for her children, and Molly Weasley was nothing if not a mother. The story was to be that he'd become upset about something and Arthur had kindly taken him home. Percy said something about Harry, and she said, smiling, "You know what your father is. He's probably boring poor Harry silly talking about his Muggle machines and his new workshop."

"I guess so." Percy had always deplored his father's interest in Muggle machines. It was not suitable, and was one of the reasons why he'd never advanced far in his career. He had to admit that it was not the only reason. His father was not very bright.

Harry retrieved the conjured knife from the floor, washed his hands, took one more look at his victims, two of them with blood surrounding exposed genitals, and disapparated. He was sure there was no evidence that he'd performed magic, and if they thought he was incredibly good at fighting, that was fine with him.

Once home, he sat in his favourite chair for a bit, head down, then quickly walked to the bathroom, barely making it before he threw up. He was not a fighter, he told himself. He'd _never_ wanted to fight. They should just leave him in peace.

Henry Steinway blinked open his eyes and forced himself to stifle a whimper. There was an unbearable stinging pain... He tried to move, finding himself able to twist slightly, not enough to see what was done. He could feel that he was exposed. Could he feel his penis? What had been done to him? He thought it couldn't be that! Surely the pain would be worse, and maybe he should be bleeding to death if everything was gone. He looked to Arthur Weasley, whose face was rolled toward him. There was a large and colourful bruise on his chin. He shifted himself, trying again to see down, but he couldn't see himself, couldn't see Weasley.

Archer Steinway had no doubts when he woke and found himself exposed and hurting. He screamed and whimpered until his father told him to shut up, there was nothing to be done, and cruelly, that at least he was not the heir, as otherwise the line would have died with him. Archer quietened, but his sobbing went on and on. His arm hurt, and his jaw, and then down there. He didn't like to think of the dreadful wound 'down there.' He should have followed his brother's example and refused to have any part of it. It was to have been his father's slave, but the lure had been that he was to be allowed to share, maybe even hurt him a little, as he liked. It had never occurred to him that he'd suffer consequences. Harry Potter, who'd been the one responsible for the deaths of three of his cousins, as well as Uncle Callum. He hadn't seen him in person before, and the most recent photograph was the one taken in St. Mungo's, eyes closed and helpless. That hard coldness in those eyes, - it had been chilling. Somehow it was hard to imagine him as a docile slave any more.

Arthur suddenly asked, "What happened?"

Henry Steinway said in a carefully casual voice, "From the appearance of things, your friend Harry overpowered us all, and left us tied up. Are you in pain?"

"My jaw hurts."

"Count yourself lucky then. I'm not sure whether my son and I are still men."

Arthur wrenched himself as far over as he could, "He wouldn't..."

It was an hour before anyone came to investigate.

Four Weasley brothers stared, appalled, while Ginny blushed red and turned away. Steinway said impatiently, "Well, untie us. We need to see the damage."

Percy asked in a hushed voice, "Call the Aurors?"

"Of course not, you fool. Just hurry up."

Percy said coldly, "I am not a fool. I see clearly what you tried to do. I will call the Aurors, and they will arrest you. Leave them tied, Ron."

Ron exclaimed, "Are you _mad_, Perce? This is Van Steinway! Harry must have attacked them."

Fred glanced from Ron to Percy, and then to his father, who looked away from them, bitterly ashamed. "Father?"

"Don't call the Aurors."

Archer Steinway's hands flew to his penis and balls, exploring, checking before giving a sigh of relief, and glancing at his father, who had assumed an air of dignity and pretended he'd never been very worried. The slave collar was already tucked into his pocket.

Percy watched, frowning, and when Steinway requested a wand to borrow so he could repair his robes, he didn't move. Ron handed over his, but when Steinway accepted it, Percy drew his own, suddenly thinking that Steinway might try an obliviation spell. Fred and George glanced at their older brother, and for once in their lives, followed suit. Steinway hid his acute feelings of humiliation, cleaned and healed the minor wounds, both of himself and his son, repaired the robes, calmly thanked Ron, and returned the wand. His son would need a Healer for the more severe wound in his arm, but considering everything, they'd been let off lightly.

Arthur said, "You can use the floo if you want." To apparate, a wizard needed a wand, either in his hand, or at least on his person, and both Henry and Archer's wands were broken. They picked up the pieces, knowing which was theirs without thinking about it. When a child was matched with a wand, a bond came into being, only reinforced over the years. In due course, they would be buried with it held tight in their right hand, even if it had been broken. Replacement wands were never the same.

Percy said, "You were lucky. He could have finished the job."

Steinway nodded, "It was a warning. We were lucky to have escaped with a warning." He looked imperiously at the witnesses, "I am Van Steinway. You will keep quiet about this. Percival, do you still wish a Marriage Bond with my grand-daughters?"

Percy said coldly, "I do not wish to ally myself with slave-masters."

Steinway inclined his head, and wished he'd had the chance to obliviate the upstart. It was too late now. He said courteously, "Your discretion will be rewarded, I assure you. Loose tongues are not a good idea."

They saw the two men off, and rejoined the company. Molly looked at them nervously. Percy said, quite loudly and clearly, "Our father tried to sell Harry to the Steinways. He escaped, but I hardly think we'll be seeing him again."

_hphphp_

Two days later, Harry sat in the Chase's lounge-room. He and Sarah were to leave for France in the morning, but he guessed he should tell them. Daniel and Jason were on a couch, shoving each other in a joking bid to oust the other. Vera said mildly, "Boys, do sit quiet, or maybe wrestle outdoors."

Jason sat up instantly, but Daniel kept pushing until Jason sprawled on the floor, catching a coffee table with a stray foot, and sending it tumbling. Harry swiftly grabbed it, pulling it away from danger, and Dan said, "Oops. Sorry Mum."

Vera shook her head, and Jason thumped Dan, "See what you've done!"

Daniel said indignantly, "I said I was sorry."

Harry said, "I had a little trouble the other day."

Vera and James paid instant attention, but Daniel was whispering something to Jason, which made him laugh and protest that it wasn't fair. Harry raised his voice, "Jase, Dan? I want to tell you something."

They sat up, glanced at each other, and the pair of them were sitting straight up, hands clasped in their laps, the picture of obedient little children. Harry laughed, and glanced at Vera, who reproved, "I think this might be serious, boys."

Harry nodded, "It could easily have been serious. I just wanted to remind everyone that if I vanish again, not to make a fuss. You can't take on these people, and they still don't know that the one they want is Lee Chase. It could also be very dangerous for you. So if I disappear, cross your fingers for me, but don't do anything else."

There was a chorus of anxious questions, "Lee... Did you see someone you knew? Did they try and get you?" And from Jason, "Did you have a good fight?"

"I bruised them a little and ran away. It was the best thing to do."

Jason was disappointed, "Just ran away?"

"There were three, and they had weapons. Luckily they didn't want to physically hurt me. It's the only reason I escaped."

James asked, "Lee, are you _sure_ you can't say who they are?"

"I told Sarah. She'd been talking to her father about powerful men with boys. There was a recent case against a lord, a strong case, but it was suddenly dropped. Men in powerful positions, they protect each other. And Tremaine told me they've got a photograph of me, and there's a reward, a very big reward. There might be more attempts to find me in the next weeks but we'll be in France for three weeks, then Germany for a week. By the time we return, the search will probably have died down."

"So they still don't know your name?"

"And they don't know my hair colour. It was my own fault. I went to visit an old friend, but when I do that, I always wear a black wig and glasses, like I used to wear. And I make the forehead scar a little more prominent instead of disguising it. It all helps."

"Maybe a big fuss in the newspapers? If they're untouchable through legal channels, maybe that would cause a stir."

"Maybe something like that might help in some circles... I might talk to Tremaine, but he might be too nervous of jeopardising his position among the legal fraternity. I gather there are judges who like boys, MPs, a lord or two, but it's all gossip. Still, I'll speak to him."

James suggested, "Perhaps I can talk to him. I take it he knows something."

"He happened to see a picture of me taken just before I escaped to Kreighley, and then that other one more recently. He's promised to keep very quiet."

James nodded approvingly, "I'll talk to him."

***chapter end***


	9. Chapter 9

_Diclaimer__: Happy Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 9: **_

Harry left it to James, and he and Sarah relaxed in the sunshine of the South of France. They were staying in a pleasant but quite cheap unit on the beach. Close was a tall apartment building, not much over twenty years old. The owner was listed as Hawkesbury Investments. It was worth several million pounds, and brought in a handsome return for its owner, Harry Potter. It was only part of the enormous wealth inherited from the Potter family. Harry had decided it was probably best to leave that one intact, though they were to have a look at two apartment blocks in Paris, with a view to selling. There were Hydrotherapy pools to pay for.

Meantime he'd put all thought of the wizarding world firmly out of his head. The Weasleys had betrayed him for the second time, and this time without the excuse of Dumbledore's manipulations. He wasn't even returning to check the newspapers, although Potter Manor was easily within his apparation range. He wouldn't see his correspondence until he returned to England in a month. It would be time to move into the small flat he'd organised in Falmouth by then, conveniently on a bus route that included the University. He didn't have his exam results yet, but was unworried. He'd had a mostly peaceful year, with plenty of time to study.

_hphphp_

Sirius Black was talking forcefully to the Chief Auror, Vance McKenzie, who had explained quite patiently that he simply didn't have the evidence to mount a case against Steinway, even though most of what had happened was widely known. The Weasley children who'd arrived on the crime scene had all testified that they'd seen the slave collar, and wizards and witches everywhere were chuckling over the reported injuries. The Steinways refused to say anything at all. McKenzie said again, "If we had the collar, then the spells could probably be analysed and ownership established. As it is, even if Harry testifies, it is unlikely to result in a conviction. It is Henry Steinway."

Narcissa observed coolly, "Harry would need extra protection if he appears to testify, Protected status or not. It could be a good idea, but we have not been able to contact him. He is not answering letters, he is not on the floo system, and we don't know where he lives."

McKenzie hated being defeated when he knew a crime had been committed, and he looked assessingly at Sirius, who'd been a very effective fighter in the first war against Voldemort. He said as if musing to himself, "The only other option is if someone was willing to challenge him to a formal duel."

"Isn't that firmly discouraged these days?" questioned Sirius, quite surprised. 

"To be accepted as a legal duel, without penalty to the participants, the challenge must be registered beforehand with the Auror office, and there needs to be a valid reason, accepted by myself as Chief Auror. Not many are accepted, but here, there is just cause."

Sirius asked, "Narcissa?" He rarely did anything without her approval, and was seldom seen without her nearby.

Narcissa looked at him thoughtfully. He'd probably prefer to go out in a blaze of glory, and maybe he'd win. One day Harry would be placed in a situation where he couldn't disguise his capabilities, and then they might all be very sorry. She said calmly, "You are Harry's logical protector as his godfather. If you wish to challenge Henry Steinway to a duel, then I am sure you will fight with courage and skill."

Sirius declared loudly, "Then I'll do it! Note it down please Auror McKenzie."

McKenzie felt a little guilty. It was known that Sirius Black had been permanently affected by his sojourn in Azkaban. He replied, "It has to be in writing, and it is set down that you have time to think about it. If you choose to go ahead, please contact me tomorrow, tell me your second, and give me a time. There should be two Aurors as witnesses when you issue the challenge."

Sirius nodded wisely, "I'm sure he'd prefer simply to murder me, the Aurors are an excellent idea."

Narcissa stood, as gracefully as she did everything else, and thanked the Chief Auror. She'd never told anyone else that Harry's magic was still there, and very, very powerful. He was no longer wearing the Binding Bracelets so he must know now, even if he hadn't to begin with. As far as Narcissa knew, she was the only one living who could feel a wizard's inherent power, though her grandmother had told her once that she could. She hadn't told anyone, though maybe she should warn Draco.

McKenzie watched them leave, wondering whether Black would have second thoughts. A formal duel usually ended in the death of one of the participants, on rare occasions, in both of them. Some curse injuries were very difficult to heal.

Mary was irate when she realised what was planned. Sirius yelled at her until she was silenced, and then said smugly, "Narcissa says it's the right thing to do."

Mary asked, "Narcissa?"

"I'll speak to you later, my sister. Will I call for some wine, Sirius?"

Sirius looked at Mary a little defiantly, and said loudly, "Yes, I _will _have wine. No, firewhisky! I want firewhisky!"

Narcissa had been putting subtle limits on his alcohol consumption for the last several weeks, but this time she said nothing as he drank himself stupid, and then the pair of them put him to bed.

Once he was snoring loudly, Mary went with Narcissa to the dining room, and asked, "What are you _thinking_, Narcissa? He could be killed! His hands shake sometimes, and he loses his temper so quickly! How can he fight a duel?"

Instead of answering, Narcissa called the house-elf, and requested hot chocolate and something sweet, muffins maybe. When Krilda brought the required refreshments, she waved her away, and served Mary herself. Mary was beginning to be worried.

Narcissa drank some of her hot drink, and finally looked up frankly at Mary. "Have you heard of Mordred's Curse?"

Mary said no, and Narcissa continued, "His drinking masks the symptoms but I'm sure of it now. He has Mordred's Curse. He will become increasingly irrational until he either goes to a long-term ward in St. Mungo's, where he'd be miserable, or he is put down. I've seen it in my father, and in Lucius's father. Probably Sirius's father was the same. It's very common among Pure-blood wizards, though females are hardly ever affected. It's madness, starting usually in a man's forties and quite quickly getting worse. Most of those affected are managed by their wives for a few years until it's time to put them down. There is no cure. It is hereditary."

"Hereditary! But we've had children!"

"James is quite unlikely to be affected thanks to your Muggle blood, and it's obvious that Dumbledore didn't have it, as he lived to be very old. My little Regulus..." she hesitated, and then continued, "The preservation of our Pure-blood families is vitally important, but we pay a price. Some of our children are feeble-minded, some born physically weak or deformed, and some of our men develop Mordred's Curse."

"I've never heard of it; it can't be true!"

"Do you know of many old wizards? There are some of course, but not nearly as many as there should be. It's because so many of them die young. Sirius only has a few years, though I haven't told him. Many men do not know, as nearly always it is handled discreetly by the wife. Knowing about it doesn't help the men, but every Pure-blood girl learns about it from her mother. We know the signs and symptoms, and we know the potions to help manage it."

"What do we do?"

"In general, dose him with potions, keep him calm, and when it comes time, he dies in his sleep. But for now... If he dies duelling in a good cause, he will feel good about himself, and will never know that he's already deteriorating."

Narcissa had spoken without emotion, but Mary looked at her in horror. There were so few old men among the Pure-blood families they mostly associated with, and she'd never given it a thought. She said quietly, "I wanted a daughter."

"Go to him tomorrow morning then if you like. But he has a good chance of winning. Henry Steinway is around sixty, has to try and cope with a new wand, and Sirius had a name as a duellist in the first war. He was respected. Even if he dies, surely it's a better death than nature has planned for him."

Mary said sadly, "Maybe you're right." She couldn't deny that she'd worried about Sirius becoming too difficult for them to handle. Narcissa was far better at it than she was, but it sounded like she'd had practice. The bloody superior Pure-bloods! So inbred that they accepted this horrible disease as a matter of course. And Narcissa and Sirius were _cousins_, and yet they'd married apparently without a second thought! And now there was dear little Regulus whom she loved almost as much as she loved her James. And very likely, when Regulus was around forty, his wife would be facing the horrible thought of having to eventually put him down.

Mary didn't go to Sirius in the morning in the hope of conceiving a daughter. She was sleeping off a hangover, though Sirius was perfectly cheerful. He never seemed to suffer from hangovers. Too accustomed to it perhaps.

_hphphphp_

Sarah bounced down onto the bed next to where Harry slept, and planted a loud smacking kiss on his forehead, "Wake up sleepy-head, you're nineteen today."

Harry blinked at her in confusion and then laughed, "I'd totally forgotten."

Sarah asked, her head tilted to one side a little, "Are you Harry Potter, birthday 31st July, or are you Lee Chase, birthday 4th October?"

"I prefer to be Lee Chase, thank you very much. He has a much better life than the Potter boy ever did."

"So then you don't want your birthday present?"

Harry sat up quickly, "I didn't say that!"

_hphphphp_

Vera checked her E-mails, happy to see the routine few sentences from Lee. He knew she worried over him, and tried to send something every day, though he'd warned that there were not always internet cafes available. This time he mentioned they were to do a four-day package tour of Paris, _'That way the accommodation is taken care of, and we get plenty of opportunity to speak French. We're getting better every day.' _

There was one from Ross Davies as well. _'Paul went into the sea today, but was hanging onto Aaron's hand very tightly. It was Kevin Stern who told him he had to. Kevin's doing wonders for Paul, maybe feels that he's like himself except that Paul can get better, and he won't.'_

Both Vera and James were becoming increasingly interested in the Kreighley boys, especially now that Lee had told them about the Tom Foundation. She knew about Kevin, and she'd seen a few of them working on a new and very large mural on the side of a Traynor bakery. And Paul Knight, the 'Cupboard Kid,' who might have been Lee. Was the only difference that Lee had had the courage to make himself known to the neighbours? It gave her the chills to think how close it might have been.

He was still a mystery. She couldn't quite fathom how he could be very wealthy, and yet his early guardians hadn't known. And then it seemed that he'd been taken somewhere else, but there had been ones he liked in that place. She knew there had been one who'd helped him escape, and he'd referred to 'an old friend.' Maybe it was another boy, but that one had stayed, maybe been obedient, he might even be cosseted and rewarded. She hoped if that was so, he was putting money away, as she'd gathered that those sort of people were seldom interested in boys past their teens. The _London Truth,_ a newspaper that delighted in the sensational, had run several articles recently, though never straying into the trap of naming names. She didn't know if James and Tremaine had managed anything more effective, and neither could come into the open for fear of identifying Lee.

She shook her head. She loved him as her son, but sometimes it was very hard not to subject him to an interrogation. He was beginning to give them snippets, - that he had wealth, that he'd been very badly treated when he was small, even about his recent fright, for she had no doubt he'd been very frightened. She very well remembered how terrified he'd been when someone he knew had appeared at Kreighley, searching for him.

_hphphphp_

Henry Steinway was speaking to his friend, Benson Zabini. "He challenged me in front of witnesses. A formal duel. I can refuse, of course."

"You'll have to accept, and hope he's as unstable as people are saying. You'll lose all credibility if you refuse."

"Everyone knows, don't they?"

"Stories contradict each other. I've heard you were castrated entirely, but don't want to admit it."

"He must have been tempted, and I can hardly blame him. He just made a shallow cut around, and then it seems he added some potion or other to make it hurt more. Archer was quite convinced."

"I've heard one or two say that your Vanie status should be stripped."

"Lester was totally uninvolved. If I have to, I can declare him Vanie in my place. Yet I'm quite sure that no-one would have said anything if I'd succeeded, except maybe asked to share, but being caught... That was a crime." He nodded, "You're right. I can retrieve my position only by winning this duel."

"What about your new wand? Is it good enough?"

"Ollivander did his best. I used to be a very good fighter with my own wand..."

Zabini nodded, and then asked, "If you have another chance at Harry?"

Steinway laughed, "I'll leave him strictly alone, thank you. Even without magic that one is a wizard to be respected."

Three days later, Sirius held his shattered left forearm, and regarded Steinway on the ground in front of him. There were a few singe marks from curses that had only grazed him, but the cutting curse had been very effective. A wicked gash right across his abdomen and then sweeping up to cross his throat. Steinway made a last muffled gurgle, and his dead eyes stared. Sirius said, "Well, I'm sorry you're dead, but my godson is a wizard, and anyone thinking of hurting him has me to answer to."

Narcissa and Mary went to his side, both warmly congratulating, and both carefully skirting the pool of blood that was still spreading.

Vance McKenzie said formally, "The duel is decided, the death is lawful, the dispute is settled. Mr. Black, I suggest you allow Healer Braithwaite to attend to your injuries."

Remus Lupin threw off his nausea at the sight of the blood, and tapped his friend on the shoulder. "This way, Sirius."

Sirius was still barely feeling the severe injury, and said, satisfaction in his voice, "I'll challenge Archer Steinway next."

Benson Zabini, who'd acted as Steinway's second, asked, "What about Arthur Weasley? He was the one set him up."

"Arthur?" None of the Weasley children had mentioned to outsiders that their father had been in any way implicated, and none of them knew that it had been Molly's idea. Arthur had never mentioned it except to Harry, and Molly had no intention of admitting to such a thing and possibly losing her children's respect. She was sure they all adored her, and why not? She was their mother. She'd done it for them.

Henry Steinway's heir, Lester Steinway, had been among the witnesses, distressed when his father was killed. He'd very much respected his father. He would not attempt any revenge. Sirius had had a legitimate grievance against his father, but he had no reason to challenge Black. Revenge was not accepted as a legitimate grievance, and he would not stoop to murder. He was Vanie now, and had a position to protect.

When Arthur Weasley heard that Sirius had killed Henry Steinway and had challenged Archer, he visited Fred and George at their new home in the country, and requested they help him by practising duelling, just in case. He'd never been much of a duellist, but every day after that he spent two hours practising with one or other of the twins, who were actually very good.

It was a nice new place in the country, with a separate, secure wing suitable for two or three slaves. Arthur said nothing about that, though he guessed. But how could he preach now? There were no slave dealers in England, and it was unlikely that Fred and George knew anything about slave collars.

_hphphphp_

Harry was feeling safe in France. The whole Aniragi population of Europe was only around 10,000, divided between the Northern and Southern Alliances, usually referred to more simply as Nadlan and Sudlan. There were thought to be fewer than a thousand Anirage in America, and almost none anywhere else in the world. The various wizard populations had little to do with each other, which made it most unlikely he'd be recognised in France. He asked Sarah one day whether she would like to move there. Sarah gave no definite answer, but started working harder at her French. Harry was tanned, healthy, and having a wonderful time with the woman he loved.

George and Fred Weasley were also in Paris, currently regarding several young Muggle boys and girls, each of them in a slave collar, and each perfectly docile. None of them objected to the close inspection they were given, even when they were instructed to take off their clothes. Fred finally suggested, "Numbers 3 & 4, George?"

George smiled. A boy and a girl. Perfect.

Laroche took them to their office before starting to discuss prices. George objected to the amount asked, but Laroche said calmly, "Of course you can take a Muggle from the street and try and tame them. You might even know a suitable potion to use, but the secrets of the slave collar belong to my family. Not many want a resentful slave."

"The collar... I thought it was only to punish."

"It can punish, of course. Once sold, I change it so that it is attuned to the one owner, or maybe to both of you in this case. It is voice activated. There are three degrees of punishment. The most severe is equivalent to the Cruciatus Curse, the first just a sharp rebuke. One can use these to keep a slave obedient. A few prefer it that way, but I do not sell to any I think will not treat my boys and girls as they should be treated. It is infinitely preferable to have the slave _wanting_ to please the master. To have the collar enchanted for this result is something that is my secret, and costs extra, but I strongly recommend it."

George said, "Fred? I really don't feel like having to punish all the time..."

Fred added, "And we certainly don't want one trying to escape."

Laroche nodded, "The ones you have chosen are brother and sister, both of them certified virgins and the girl sterilised. I recommend you take care not to hurt. They may be influenced to want to please, but it's still best to treat them as the treasures they are, carefully chosen for their beauty, and influenced to be docile. They deserve a good home."

"They will have a good home with us."

They settled down to a discussion about a convenient time to provide a sample of blood each then. They would stay to witness that being used in the potion, and ensure there was none kept aside. Blood was a powerful ingredient and this was usual practice, not a sign of any particular distrust.

The Weasley twins left the slave trader in high good humour. It had been expensive, but two docile slaves would be delivered to them within the week, ready to give them pleasure. Fred said, "17,375 Galleons," and George grinned, "I can't wait."

"Well treat them well, of course."

"The boy... I reckon we'll have him loving it within the week."

"Can I have him first?"

"If you want. I think I actually like the girl best."

"I've never tried a girl."

"We've always had each other, of course. We've never needed anyone else."

They split up then, as Fred had an errand, while George headed back to the hotel. But Fred gaped as he almost bumped into a young man just emerging from a hairdresser - Harry? Quickly he stepped back, but watched as Harry joined a young woman and they walked off together. _Had_ it been Harry? Blonde, blonde like the new slaves. No glasses, and he hadn't seen a scar. He guessed he'd been mistaken. He mentioned it to George, who happened to mention it to Arthur who told Molly - that Harry had been spotted in Paris, but not wearing glasses, and with quite short, blonde hair, rather messy. "His hair always used to be messy, do you remember, Molly? Before he grew it long?"

_hphphphp_

A few days later, Harry and Sarah were in company with a dozen others of the tour group. They were at the Louvre, listening to the guide assigning some esoteric meaning to the awkward looking addition to the entrance of the old building. Sarah whispered, "Duck the guide, and just look for ourselves?"

Harry glanced at the attractive young woman, but then his eyes were caught by another, this one middle-aged, who stared at him, and then collapsed, shouting words in Aniragi, not French. She was a witch, and probably so were the two with her. He backed away, wondering what had provoked such a reaction. It seemed as if it was because she'd seen him, but he didn't recognise her, and anyway, she was French. Surely he was unknown in France! She was the first witch or wizard he'd seen since the Weasley party. He took more care to use his Hiding Spell after that.

_hphphphp_

Bernard Mauresmo was the head of Law Enforcement for the Southern Alliance. He held several newspaper clippings in his hand and a booklet of recent prophecies. The Minister for Magic, or Dassier as it was called in Sudlan, was Sabine Portat, only quite recently elected to the position. Mauresmo was glad that she was willing to listen to him.

Madame Portat studied the assembled prophecies and said thoughtfully, "They speak of night, but not as if it's inevitable."

"There are even more in Britain. I've been speaking to Madam Bones and she's worried."

"She's had death threats, hasn't she?"

"She's clamped down on the abuse of Muggles, especially the use of them as temporary mistresses for unmarried men. It's made her very unpopular with the male members of their Wizemgamot, but she says she dare not lighten her stance. She says the prophecies have been more specific there, and strongly indicate that if wizards keep slaves, boy or girl, there will be an awful revenge taken."

The Dassier asked, horrified, "Boys? I didn't know they used boys!"

Mauresmo said with a hint of rebuke in his tone, "A Dassier cannot afford naivety, Madame. At the last check of Mssr. Laroche, he had five boys, two of them eunuchs, and seven girls."

"Eunuchs..." the Dassier said in a failing voice.

"There was a woman who was taken ill today. She's at her home, but has not regained rationality. I want you to see her."

"Is this woman relevant to what we were discussing?"

"Oh yes, very relevant."

Twenty minutes later, Dasse Portat regarded a woman tossing and turning in bed, mumbling about the end of Anirage, that night comes, that Muggle slaves would be avenged, that the dragon was stirring and something about 'The Childless One.' She commented, "The same themes you were telling me."

"Madame Lisse has never spoken of anything like this before; she's known only as a Seer because she has a habit of forecasting a death, sometimes even to the unfortunate person."

"Not very tactful," but at that moment the sick woman's eyes snapped open, and she grabbed the Dassier's robes, hissing, "You can save us, you have to stop it. He'll leave us alone if only we leave the Muggles alone, and she can't do it alone."

Mauresmo said urgently, "_Who,_ Madame Lisse. Who do we need to fear?"

"I saw him. He is here. I saw the dragon," but upon being urged to give a description, she lapsed into vague generalities of sharp teeth, red eyes and claws before giving a shudder, and saying, quite clearly, "He is death, and doesn't know it." But then she dropped into a sudden slumber, and could not be roused.

Mauresmo looked at the woman's husband, "Keep a record of everything she says. I will send a secretary to help, and a nurse as well, Ministry funded. I have a feeling that what she is saying could be vitally important."

Jean nodded obediently, and wondered what the Dassier could do.

Mauresmo was thankful that the Dassier had listened to his concerns. There were hundreds of slaves in the Sudlan, probably even more in the Nadlan. He'd make overtures to their Auror Department. It was a nuisance that the Dassier so loathed Dache Kuhnast. He was beginning to think that only if the various Aniragi communities acted together, could they save their world. No-one had sent any help to the American community, which was looked down upon.

It took a week of strong argument, but the Sudlan Trentaine, equivalent to the Wizemgamot, agreed that slavery was to be made illegal and phased out. It helped that out of the twenty-nine members of the Trentaine, eleven were Vanie and male, but eighteen were women. The British Wizemgamot, on the other hand, currently had fifty-eight members, of whom forty-nine were male. An official was put in charge of registering existing slaves, and deciding on their fate, with the warning that no slaves were to be put down without Ministry approval.

Meantime, Harry and Sarah had moved on to Munich, Germany, and were enjoying a dinner at a restaurant. With them were Severus Snape and his wife, Trieneke. They hadn't brought their little girl but Snape was describing her, "An imp of mischief, just like her namesake. I called her Lily you know, Harry."

Trieneke said, "She's far too active to bring to a restaurant, and Severus says that it could be a little risky for you to visit us at home."

"I would never want to put you at risk," said Harry, and Sarah asked anxiously, "It's all right this? What we're doing?"

"Of course. We apparated, so we can't be traced. Anyway, I don't think we are being watched. It's just that I prefer to be cautious."

Sarah asked, "Would they really hurt you just because you helped Lee?"

"Probably not now, and anyway, we're thinking of moving again. Trieneke wants more equal rights."

Sarah was puzzled, "With ordinary people, you mean?"

"With wizards. Nadlan has an all-male government. The women do not vote. There are other things." He smiled at his wife, and said, quite lightly, "Trieneke is tired of being second-class when she is as powerful as any conceited wizard."

Sarah laughed and said to Trieneke, "Your phrasing?"

Trieneke grinned, "Pretty much. Here, few witches go to a good School of Magic, though I did, and when we do, some subjects are barred to us. I'm tired of it, and want to move to Italy or France. Then my daughters can go to Beaubatons, which is run by a woman."

"Daughters?"

Trieneke smiled proudly, "I'm expecting another little girl in December."

There were congratulations, and then Snape asked, "What did you really do to the Steinways, Harry?"

"You heard about that, Seveus?"

"I didn't quite believe what I heard."

Harry glanced around, but Snape had cast _Muffliato,_ and no-one would overhear them talk of wizards and magic. His expression darkened a moment as he thought of the betrayal of Molly and Arthur Weasley, but he threw that off, and said lightly, "Just gave them a scare, Henry Steinway and a younger man. I made it so they'd hopefully think I'd turned them into eunuchs, though they were scarcely hurt."

"The younger man was Archer Steinway, Henry's second son. Did you know that they're dead? Sirius Black took them on one by one, legal duels, encouraged, I suspect, by Vance McKenzie. According to Black, you're his godson, and anyone attacking you has to answer to him."

Harry sat back, "Sirius did that for me? I haven't even spoken to him since last January. We quarrelled after he tried to make a betrothal contract."

Sarah glanced at him, "You never told me exactly why you quarrelled."

"He told me it was my duty to marry a Pure-blood woman, and beget an heir. I declined, and he was furious. It seems he had it all arranged, even a date."

Sarah said sternly, "Well, don't you go forgiving him. You're betrothed to me."

Harry said teasingly, "In the wizarding world, I can have two wives if I want." Sarah gently smacked his arm, and he laughed and extended a hand to her, "But I really don't want a witch, thank you."

Snape asked curiously, "Did he have someone in mind?"

"Cecilia Shunpike. Draco told me she has neither looks nor brains."

"She is plain, but I think she does have brains. Unfortunately, she was pulled out of school early, probably because the family has little money."

"I was told I was to pay money for the privilege of marrying her."

Sarah shook her head, "These customs... They're like upper class society roughly two centuries ago."

Snape said, "Some customs are good, some not so good, just like every culture. Certainly in many ways we are far too conservative."

The talk continued, a lot of laughter, but sometimes it became more serious, especially when the talk went to the issue of Muggle slaves, and Harry said grimly that he sometimes thought he should really do something about it. If he had names, a gun and some allies... Maybe it was time that Muggles knew that wizards preyed on them. Snape was alarmed, and said urgently, "They must not know. It would be disastrous."

"Disastrous for wizards, of course. Maybe it would not be such a bad thing for Muggles."

Snape stared at him, acutely uneasy. But then he shook his head. Harry could not work magic. No-one would ever believe him if he did speak of wizards. Still, he could show someone Diagon Alley if he chose. Maybe he should be obliviated, maybe he should forget about his whole history as a wizard. Recent obliviations of Muggle parents of wizards had left the subjects brain-damaged, and Harry was his Demter Ward, whom he'd vowed to protect.

Harry had been watching Snape, a little worried. If Severus betrayed him... He finally said, "I will not start a Holocaust. Do not worry about me."

Snape said in a casual tone, "I was not worried. When it comes down to it, you are Anirage. You will not want to see us all destroyed," and Trieneke added, "I don't think it happens much anyway. There are strict laws about interfering with Muggles."

Harry concealed his thoughts. Magic was wonderful, but his loyalties were with Mugglekind. It was Muggles - ordinary people - who'd looked after him, given him a home, a normal woman whom he loved. It was wizards who'd hurt and betrayed him, and would hurt him more if they had the opportunity. In a war between the species, he would fight with normal humans, as those Muggle-born wizards in America had done.

Severus Snape was left a little uneasy after that meeting. Harry Potter was not a child any more, he was fully grown, an adult. If it had been himself, he never would have forgiven so easily, not the initial betrayal, and not the deliberate crippling afterwards. He would have wanted to hurt. But he remembered Harry a couple of years before when he, Vance McKenzie and Poppy had organised for him to have his eyes fixed. He'd been so transparently delighted afterward, almost childlike. He'd been willing to put his life in their hands. He shook his head. Harry Potter was not like himself. More forgiving, more _loving _even, though it sounded so corny. Maybe rather than worrying about how he could hurt Wizardkind, he should do him a favour, give him a reason to think more positively about magic and what it could do.

He took care with the selection and packing, and even more care with the instructions, but the next time that Harry visited Potter Manor, he would find a carefully packed supply of useful potions waiting for him, a gift from Severus Snape.

Harry was very pleased with the gift, but laughed when he looked at the instructions, provided very clearly and in detail. Severus never had had any faith in his Potions ability. There was also a warning that if he didn't want to poison Sarah, he should ensure that she never tried one - that potions interacted with the magic of wizards, and that most of them were poison for Muggles.

He wrote a thank you, and then did what he'd been meaning to for some time - he made arrangements to receive the most popular newspapers from both the Northern and Southern Alliances of Europe, and also from America when possible, though he was advised that the Americans were only managing a one page newsletter at the moment, as hardly anyone even had a wand. There were a few business reports as well, though only in the Sudlan countries. He had no income earning assets based in the Nadlan Wizarding world, though he had had once.

It was not easy doing business in the wizarding world, but some things could be purchased using mail order, 'Pay in advance and cross your fingers,' and Goblin Vlasna was always willing to help - for the appropriate fee. But he was discreet, and Harry was grateful that the goblins had kept his wealth safe for him for all those years until he was seventeen. The goblins had looked after him better than wizards had.

_***chapter end***_


	10. Chapter 10

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: * Europe is divided into two Alliances, the Northern and Southern Alliances, usually known as the Nadlan, centred in Germany, and the Sudlan, centred in France. * Cerlikh, the occasion of the defeat of Voldemort, when Voldemort and over 300 of his Death Eaters died. * The 'Vanie,' the hereditary 'Nobles' of Wizardkind. _

_* Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 10: **_

Sirius Black had fought two duels for him. Harry decided the least he could do was visit and thank him. He turned up without warning, and was dragged in and hugged by Sirius, who'd apparently totally forgotten he'd ever been displeased with him. Sirius was talking excitedly, and had a hectic flush on his face, but calmed down considerably after an afternoon tea.

Harry spoke about his visit to Paris, although not mentioning Sarah, and not admitting that he'd been in Germany. He suspected that Sirius was quite incapable of keeping a secret, and didn't want to put Severus and his family at risk. Sirius boasted about his duelling prowess, and mentioned that formal duelling was far more common in Europe.

Mary said disapprovingly, "Someone told me they have Blood Feuds there all the time, especially in the Nadlan. It's why there are far more women there than men."

Narcissa said, "Sirius says he was told that Arthur Weasley was involved in the attempted kidnap, but he's always liked Arthur."

"Arthur and Molly Weasley set it up. I don't think Arthur wanted to do it, but he said that Molly made him. That it was for the children."

Sirius said restlessly, "But I don't want to kill Arthur."

Harry shrugged, "Then don't. I'll just stay away from them. I became careless, I think. I thought I was safe there."

"You're safe here."

Harry smiled in answer, and only hoped it was right. He was wearing his knives again, and was taking care what he ate and drank. He also planned to join a shooting club and learn to shoot. He intended to appear to comply with all laws, and when he thought it advisable to carry a gun, would simply put a 'Don't Notice Me' charm on it. He still practised with his knives, now using moving targets, as well as with targets that shot back, though only with marking spells. They'd been expensive, but he felt he needed to be fast and agile in dodging, and fast and accurate with both knives and guns. The incident with Steinway had been too close.

Narcissa said judiciously, "It is unwise to let them go unpunished. I think you were right giving that warning to the Steinways in the way that you did, and now it is known that there is a capable wizard able and willing to avenge any attacks. Arthur and Molly deserve some retribution as well. Maybe if you charge them with assisting in an attempt to kidnap. They are unlikely to go to gaol, but they should pay a large fine. You are Protected by the Ministry. It is time to take advantage of that status."

"You think it would make me safer?"

"I hope so, Harry."

The result was that a few days later, Harry sat in a small room in the Ministry. Sirius and Narcissa were with him, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt as a bodyguard. Another Auror whom Harry knew, Jeremy Huntington, was just outside the door. He'd been treated with utmost courtesy since he'd arrived. Narcissa looked as elegant as always, and as arrogant. She was in full Pure-blood superior-to-everybody-else mode, while Sirius was quiet, dignified, and doing exactly as she told him. They were the Blacks, and lesser beings should know not to mess with the Blacks. Mary was at home, unwilling to face going out when she felt so thoroughly ill. She was very tired, not just that she was pregnant again, but that the babies were a handful, even with a full-time nanny.

Harry had spotted the Weasley children when they arrived, but if they'd seen him, they'd made no indication. They were presumably waiting elsewhere. Molly and Arthur would stay in the Hearing room for the duration, but witnesses would attend only when their testimony was required.

Reginald MacMillan, the Black's Law-wizard, quickly conferred with them, and checked again if they wanted to request the use of Veritaserum. Harry declined, as he had before. As the victim, he had the right to request use of the potion, but if he did, he would also need to be willing to take it when he gave his own testimony. With these conditions, Veritaserum was seldom used. Few people were willing to totally expose themselves. Harry certainly wasn't. MacMillan merely nodded, told him it would probably be some time before he was called, and vanished.

Harry was wishing very much that he hadn't agreed to this course of action. He felt acutely uneasy in spite of the bodyguards, there were too many enemies, and he didn't fully trust even Sirius to be on his side. He was a wizard, and he was convinced that no wizard was to be trusted. He wanted to go home, to be safe with his family, his _Muggle_ family. Kingsley said softly, "Stop worrying, Harry. Jeremy and I are not to let you alone until you're back at Sirius's place, or wherever you choose to go. You are safe."

Harry gave him a weak smile, "Thank you, Kingsley." He hadn't been searched, and he had his knives.

MacMillan returned after a short time with the news that Percy had testified, and given a full account of finding the wizards as they'd been left. "With his testimony, it's not likely the other brothers will say any different. Molly's involvement is the only thing in real doubt."

It was another half hour before Harry was called, and MacMillan said, "As I thought, Fred, George and Ron all say the same. You only need to say what happened, Mr. Potter. Arthur and Molly will speak last."

Harry showed an impassive face as he gave his testimony in a calm and confident voice. There were few present in the small room, just Molly and Arthur, who were sitting down perfectly comfortably in normal chairs, a few Aurors, and the five presiding Panel members. Minister Bones sat to the side, a large desk in front of her. Harry was spoken to with respect and courtesy, no-one tried to cast doubt on his veracity, even when he gave an account of Arthur saying that Molly made him do it, 'for the children.' There was a request for clarification when he described pouring 'Turps' on the shallow wounds, and he explained that it was a Muggle chemical, and would make the wounds sting more, maybe make them think he'd been more extreme. There was a quiet chuckle at that, but Harry scarcely noticed. He was thinking of that slave collar, the ominous feel of it in his hands. He still didn't know a great deal about slave collars, though he'd been trying to find out.

The Chairman of the Panel thanked him, and asked him to stay available. Neither Molly nor Arthur looked at him.

They were served a light lunch when they returned to their small room. A table was set up, and the meal laid out by a young woman, who then smiled at Harry, introduced herself as Vivienne Lewis, said that she'd been in Hufflepuff, a few years ahead of Harry, and said that as one of the Muggle-borns, she probably owed her life to him. "I know it wasn't your idea, but I want to thank you anyway."

Harry smiled back at her, finally beginning to relax, "You know, you're the first person who's thanked me for it, I think, - ever."

Sirius was shocked, turning to him, "I thanked you, Minister Fudge thanked you! They even gave you an Order of Merlin!"

Harry said wryly, "Of course. How could I have forgotten that?"

Vivienne said tartly, "I heard that they were treating you dreadfully at the time. Maybe that's why."

Harry glanced at Kingsley, and nodded, "Maybe that's why."

Kingsley looked away, doing his best not to feel guilty. An Auror had to follow orders, and they'd done the best they could. He said, "Thank you Vivienne," and dismissed, the young woman left.

Narcissa asked, "Shall I prepare you a plate, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. But surely they wouldn't try and drug or poison the lot of them. Narcissa pulled her wand, waved it at the table, said an incantation, and assured him, "A potion shows as a red glow over the affected food. There is nothing here to concern you."

Harry asked, "What was that incantation?"

She told him, and added, "Basic education in some circles. One has to be prepared."

"I guess," and when Narcissa handed him a plate, he accepted with a smile.

A little over two hours later, MacMillan returned and said, "I assume you wish to attend for the verdict, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded and stood. Narcissa asked, "What will it be, do you think?"

"It has to be guilty for Arthur, probably unproven for Molly. Arthur confessed to the treachery, but stated he was under pressure from the Steinways. He said that Molly hadn't known about it, which is what Molly also said."

The Panel Chairman's short statement was simple, and was as MacMillan had indicated, - that Arthur Weasley had been found guilty of helping in the attempted kidnapping, but that there was no evidence sufficient to convict Molly Weasley. He nominated a large fine to be paid by Arthur Weasley, an extra and separate sum to be paid to the victim as reparations, and stated, "Minister Bones wishes to say something before anyone leaves."

Amelia Bones rose to her feet, and said gravely, "I was deeply disturbed when it was brought to my attention that a wizard was threatened in such a way. Slavery is illegal, and that Mr. Potter had his magic destroyed does not change the facts. No-one, Muggle or wizard, is to be taken and used in such a way. In the next meeting of the Wizemgamot, there is a motion to be moved that penalties for the crime be further increased. I have also instructed the Auror Department to ensure that anyone guilty of keeping a slave is to be caught and punished to the fullest extent of the law."

She turned to Harry, "I will come with you when you leave, Mr. Potter. There are quite a few members of the public, and also Press in the Atrium. There is no need to talk to anyone if you don't want to, but being with me will show you that you have our full support."

Vance McKenzie, Chief Auror, also joined them as they left the small meeting room, and said quietly, "Hello, Harry. I'm pleased to see you dressed as you should be, but you must also _act_ as a wizard. Do not show that you're nervous at all, show a confident front. It is important that you do not appear as a defenceless Muggle."

Harry remarked, "I did all right against the Steinways as a defenceless Muggle."

McKenzie grinned, "That you did. But now I want to make you safer, and a change of attitude is the best way. When it sunk in how many were lost in Cerlikh, there was ill feeling, but that was years ago now, and the times have moved on. You should take your place as a wizard of high degree. Stop hiding, and people will stop thinking of you as a Muggle who can be abused."

Harry didn't try and prevent the condemnation from appearing in his voice, "Muggles should _not_ be abused, ever!"

"Of course not. There are laws to prevent it. People who abuse Muggles are punished whenever we catch it, but you. You are different. You're not some anonymous Muggle. You're Harry Potter, who ended the threat of tyranny by an evil wizard who enjoyed causing pain. You are Head of the ancient and noble House of Potter. When we go out there, show yourself as that."

Harry grinned at him, a rueful twist to his mouth, "I'm Harry Potter, don't mess with me attitude?"

McKenzie clapped him on the back, "Exactly that attitude. Answering some questions will help, maybe be a bit light-hearted even."

"If someone aims a wand?"

"No-one will. There will be a dozen Aurors around to ensure they don't."

With that advice in mind, Harry stopped in front of the group of reporters, looking as confident as he knew how. He stood with Kingsley on one side, and Sirius on the other. Amelia was still there, Narcissa beside her, and an Auror.

With a bare hesitation of sheer surprise, Rita Skeeter called, "What exactly did you do to the Steinways, Harry?" and another asked, "If someone tried it again, would you go the whole way?"

Harry glanced at the young man, "I think I'm a little squeamish to actually cut it off, Mr. Turpin. But certainly, anyone who succeeds in taking me will either be castrated or killed. It's probably less messy to kill them."

Skeeter called, "What do you think about being so desired?"

"I am not desired, it is just that some people want to avenge Voldemort. I think we should only be pleased that he's dead."

Turpin asked, "Are you living as a Muggle, Mr Potter?"

"I am a wizard, and will always be a wizard."

"You stated that Molly Weasley was involved in the treachery." And almost at the same time, from the young man called Turpin, "Do you think the punishment should have been greater?"

"I have complete faith in Amelia Bones' administration."

Rita Skeeter again, "How do you feel about the Weasleys' betrayal, Harry?"

How did he feel? The Weasleys who'd made him welcome, made him feel safe, and then tried to hand him over. The slave collar had been waiting, ready. Narcissa noticed a breeze picking up and stepped forward swiftly, "Harry will not be answering any more questions!"

"Is he accepted as part of your family, Mr. Black?"

Sirius smiled, and wrapped an arm around Harry. "He was always mine, my godson. I fought for him, remember? And I'll do it again if necessary."

Harry calmed down and smiled at Sirius. He didn't think anyone had noticed his churning emotions triggered by the question about the Weasleys. He glanced around. Bill, Percy and Ginny were together watching him. He may not have liked Percy much, but he'd been fond of Ginny, and Bill had tried to help him. He supposed he couldn't expect them to go against their own parents to support him. He looked away, not seeing Ginny raise a hand to him. Sirius squeezed his shoulder. But how could he be relied upon? How could anyone be relied on? He thought of Sarah, and smiled. She could be relied upon. Forever and ever, all his life. He'd be eighteen in the Muggle world very soon. He wondered what sort of a wedding Sarah would like.

He didn't stay long at the Blacks afterwards, but agreed to return the following Saturday afternoon for what Narcissa described as a 'strategy meeting,' "We need to get you accepted as a wizard among wizards."

"Do you think it possible?" asked Harry.

Narcissa smirked, "Remember Lucius? Whether people believed he was a Death Eater, which would make him a criminal, or a victim of the Imperius Curse, which would make him appear weak, - with my help, he was still very influential. If I could do it for him, I can do it for you."

"It will mean exposing myself far more."

"True, but worthwhile, I believe."

He talked it over with Sarah later, and showed her a book Narcissa had given him, _The Great Houses of Britonaum._ "She told me it's updated every five years, this one immediately after Cerlikh as there were so many deaths. It lists the heads of Houses, and their heirs, some of the lesser members, traditional and current formal alliances or declared enmities, any particular attributes, and the hereditary Manor."

"Britonaum?"

"All of Britain plus Ireland. Wizards have a tendency to ignore Muggle borders, especially those apt to change."

"Does it list Potter Manor? I thought it was Hidden!"

"I'm assuming people can see it and promptly forget it. There are a few other Houses listed without a House Manor that one can read and remember. I've been looking."

"How many families does it describe?"

Harry flipped to the back of the book, "Assuming a chapter per House, there are forty-three."

"Including the Potters."

"They seem to be in something like a ranking. The Steinways first, they've been Head of the Vanie Council for generations, then others of the Vanie, then Blacks, Potters, Dumbledores, though there seems to be only Aberforth Dumbledore left. Those were families who'd been Vanie at one time. Then others of the Pure-blood families, Greaves, Landen, Scrimgeour..." He flipped through it, seeing other names he knew. There was no mention of any other mixed-blood House than his own, but of course, in his own, his 'Muggle-born' mother had turned out to be the daughter of a Squib rather than a Muggle. Maybe he was now regarded as of Pure-blood status. Narcissa had mentioned that she had a stake in the publishing company, - maybe she'd had a hand in that. Well, he'd be dropped from it again when he married Sarah. For a moment he felt a regret, but was ashamed of himself an instant later. Pure-blood status was not something to be desired.

He flipped back to the Potters, checking the maiden names of the wives, - in just the last few generations, he was related to the Greaves, the Longbottoms and the Vandens. He _had _had relatives, and he wondered why none of them had tried to claim him. Maybe just that the female line was regarded as unimportant? Or had Dumbledore had something to do with it? It gave him a warm feeling to know that he did, after all, have blood kin. He liked Charlie Greaves, for instance, and he appeared to be a second cousin. His great, great grandmother was a Longbottom, so that made Neville related to him as well, though quite distantly, he supposed. Troy Vanden was the Healer who'd fixed his eyes. He wondered if he'd known he was related, but probably not. The book mentioned daughters, the names of their husbands, but didn't follow them any further.

Sarah thought that she was forgotten, watching him as he flipped back and forth through the book, now and then stopping to read more thoroughly. It was a different world, and she wondered again just how much a part of him yearned to return to it. There was a fear within her that he might leave her behind and become a wizard again.

But that night she had to soothe away a nightmare, and he confessed that he'd often been tempted to swear off wizards altogether. She stroked over his chest, gently soothing, as he lay on his back, arms behind his head.

Finally, he said, "It would be nice if I was safe enough not to dye my hair, and Narcissa's scheme will help with that." But then he turned to her, "The biggest reason that I do not intend to shun them entirely is that I feel a responsibility to ordinary people. Wizards threaten us sometimes, for sport, or amusement, as well as for use as slaves. Even the casual obliviation of memories is a terrible abuse of our rights. I told you that I was more powerful than most wizards, that I thought I had somehow absorbed Voldemort's powers, - but while very powerful, except for trivial spells, he still needed his wand, and Dumbledore was his match. But me..."

He paused again for a moment, thinking, then continued very quietly, "I am not just more powerful than an ordinary wizard, I am several _times_ more powerful. I wonder if it's me, - that Wikan heritage, or maybe that when Voldemort was fighting against me, he drew power from the Death Eaters through their marks... I told you most of them died. There were over three hundred dead Death Eaters. If I took even a tiny fraction from some of those as well, that would account for it. And then, if they started more blatantly attacking Muggles, I could defend them. I think I _should_ keep in touch."

"Are you saying that your loyalty is to Muggles, rather than to wizards?"

"I guess I am saying that. If they leave me alone, leave all of us alone, then I'll only visit occasionally. But if they attack us, if they forget their rules about ethical treatment of Muggles, then it is possible I might act against them."

"You told me they could still take you by simply getting you in the back."

"And so they could. But maybe I do have something from the Potters beside my looks. It said that the Potters were always warriors. I don't like fighting... but I will not tamely stand aside and allow wizards to treat us as unimportant, either."

Sarah said cautiously, "You would fight with Muggles, rather than wizards."

"I would," and he glanced at Sarah, a wry smile on his face, "And why are _you_ suddenly referring to them as Muggles?"

"Because you have been, I guess, and also because it seems to sum up the attitude of wizards towards us. I think it's a bad omen."

"Maybe... But right now we're warm and safe, and I know just how to take both our minds off serious things," and he swiftly turned over, trapped her arms above her head, and quickly, cheekily licked her chin. She liked it when Harry showed this lighter side to his character. Harry. Lee really. He'd declared his loyalties, and it was to her, Sarah, and to Vera and James Chase, to the Kreighley boys... Muggles as those others called it. Harry Potter was the wizard, who'd told her soberly that he would fight for them all, but Lee was her fiancé, whom she loved more than life.

***chapter end***


	11. Chapter 11

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: * 'The Vanie' are the hereditary 'Nobles' of Wizardkind. * 'Anirage' is another name for Wizardkind. * 'Sudlan' is also known as 'The Southern Alliance.' Their equivalent to Britain's Ministry of Magic is in France, but the Alliance includes several other countries of Europe. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 11**_

Narcissa's plan began to be put into action in the middle of September, a dinner party at the Black House, Draco and his new wife, Marie, Vayden Carlyle and Hermione, and Neville and Ginny, also now married. Harry was by himself. Sarah had put forth an argument that she should be with him as his fiancée, but just the mention had Harry remembering not only how dangerous was the wizarding world for those who had made themselves unpopular, but he was worried that she'd be exposed to rudeness. Severus Snape knew about Sarah, and he wondered now why he'd allowed that. Snape was not a nice man. He'd learned that at his first Potions lesson. Just because he'd helped him, didn't change that fact. He guessed he'd just relaxed a little too much when away from England.

As Narcissa had instructed him, he'd been studying the book, learning more of the less obvious politics of the wizarding world, - that the Blacks and the Malfoys had had a Blood Feud, for instance, formally ended when Narcissa Black married Lucius Malfoy. That the Goyles and Crabbes were traditional vassals to the Malfoy family, that the Potters had had alliances with the Longbottoms, the Greaves and the Steinways. He gave a bitter laugh at that irony, - it was perfectly obvious that any alliance with the Steinways was no longer in effect!

There was a chapter on the Weasleys, who seemed to have married into every other family noted. Yet they were Number 42 of the 43 families, which implied that they'd never been very influential. Just 43 families acknowledged as Pure-blood in Britain, though he supposed there could be more who hadn't made it into the book. Hagrid had said something about that once, how few Pure-bloods there were left.

Voldemort had studied the same sort of information at one time, and sometimes his knowledge would surface, providing extra information about the families. There was also a chapter on extinct families, where he found mention of the Prewitt and Crouch families.

It was information that he should have grown up with, and would have needed to take his place as the Head of House Potter. Placing him with the Dursleys had deprived him of more than a reasonable childhood home. His grandfather, Gerion Potter, had been married to Valda Greaves, sister of Vikal Greaves, Head of the House of Greaves. Now that would have been a suitable placement, especially as the Greaves were allied to the Potters. There was no mention of any formal dissolution of that alliance. He'd have to ask Narcissa just how much such alliances actually meant these days.

He prepared carefully for this first dinner party, the usual disguise, and then some new robes that displayed the Potter Family Crest, carefully embroidered by Madam Malkin herself. He didn't know any other clothier. It had been done by mail order, rather than arrange to have an Auror as bodyguard, as both Narcissa and Vance McKenzie told him was essential whenever in a wizarding area.

The conversation was a little stilted to begin with, but then Narcissa asked Draco for news of the changes in the Sudlan laws relating to Muggles, and Hermione started to sketch out a plan for the improvement of wizarding laws generally. Vayden watched her fondly, but said little. He thought she was naive, but he loved her very much. Tracey wasn't in attendance. Her baby was due in a few weeks, and she was not in the mood for socialising.

Mary, also pregnant, was feeling very well. A friend had shared the recipe for her nausea-relieving potion, with the evidence that she'd had five healthy children, and had used the potion during each pregnancy.

In a different part of the house, the nanny was looking after the baby sons, nine months old now. Both Draco and Harry had peeped into the nursery to admire. Draco had touched each on the head, and Harry thought that again he saw a slight glow of magic.

The small entertainment went well, Harry very relieved that Ginny was simply friendly, and made no mention of her parents' court appearance. Draco's new wife, Marie, was another who could have been a problem as so many of the Bowens had died, but she took little notice of him. And Vayden, who'd been a Slytherin, a year ahead of himself at Hogwarts. Vayden spoke to him a long time, informative and knowledgeable about politics. Narcissa joined them after a while, and stated that Harry was to go to a small dinner party at Malfoy Manor the following week, and also that 'Dear Reginald' had said that she was to bring him to the Carlyle place for a formal dinner. Vayden said, surprised, "Grandfather said that?"

"He did, but I specified that Harry goes nowhere without an Auror beside him as bodyguard. I've already spoken to Amelia about that."

"How did he take that?"

"With utmost courtesy of course. He is my godfather. Did you know that?"

Vayden looked back at Harry, wearing formal robes, and reflected that Narcissa's strategy was a good one. No-one would take him for a Muggle now. And he was a man, not the sort of pretty boy one might like for sex.

Harry picked up that thought, and smiled to himself. Instead of shaving with magic, he hadn't shaved since the previous evening, and then with an ordinary razor, so there was a slight shadow on his cheeks. He was sure it had helped. Carefully, subtly, he was listening to the minds of those he spoke to. He would not again be caught so unwary as he'd been at the Weasleys. He was invading their privacy, but it was a matter of self-defence. He was not good at it, and with some, he couldn't do it at all. He hadn't had much practice, of course, as he refused to do it with his ordinary friends. But these... He'd been too often betrayed, and no wizard or witch was immune to his attempts to know their thoughts.

A few minutes later, he admitted ruefully to himself that eavesdroppers had to take the bad with the good. Ginny was being perfectly polite, but he knew she wanted to go home and to bed. There was an image in her mind that Harry definitely should not be seeing. It appeared that Neville was very good in bed.

He sat down beside Mary then, and listened to her chatting about the exploits of their sons. "Into everything," she was saying, laughing. "It's so wonderful to watch them exploring. And they're so _fast!_ I hadn't realised that crawling was such an efficient method of locomotion!"

"So they're not walking yet?"

"Trying. I'm told that most toddlers walk at around twelve months, but both Regulas and James are very forward for their ages," and coming along with the statement was Mary's rueful thought that she was a typical boasting mother.

Harry asked, "Could I have a peep at them again before I leave, do you think?"

Mary rose instantly. The babies were sleeping in the same crib, and she said quietly, "They settle down far more quickly if they're put to bed together. Molly Weasley advised it. She said that Fred and George only consented to sleep in different beds when they were too big to share."

"They're beautiful children."

"Yes..." but Harry detected a sadness and a worry as she regarded the blonde head of little Regulus. He wanted to ask if it was because Regulus was the heir and not her little James, but that would be rude, and anyway, he didn't think it could be that. Mary was not the jealous type.

Mary said, "I'd like a large family, I think, boys and girls_, three_ girls maybe. I'd like that. So few of us manage large families," and she thought about her joy in carrying a babe. Mostly she felt too tired and ill to think of the wonder of it all, but Helen's potion helped amazingly.

Harry went home soon after, relieved that he could be himself, and not displeased when Sarah kept him awake as she spoke about her purchase of new curtains for their small unit, and whether they should have a house-warming party. He knew about Mary's pregnancy. It was a thought too uppermost in her mind for him to miss. She was far more open than Narcissa. He hadn't managed to pick up anything from Narcissa.

Narcissa was perfectly satisfied with the success of her entertainment. Draco had indicated his doubt that many of the Pure-blood fraternity would be willing to accept him as one of themselves, but Vayden had, and that was definitely a good indication.

Mary pretended for hours that the pains in her abdomen were because she'd eaten too much. But when she started bleeding, she could no longer pretend, and called the Healer. The Healer could do nothing, not even to ease the pain. Mary lost the baby, and was devastated. The Healer told her that it was her own fault, she should have known better than to take potions while pregnant. Babies were too precious for carelessness!

It was Narcissa who stayed with her for hours that night as she wept. Sirius only said 'Bad luck,' and that if she was lucky enough to conceive again, it might be another boy conceived, instead of a daughter. It was an attitude common to his class, that daughters were nice to have maybe, but they were not like sons, who would carry on the name.

_hphphphp_

Harry had considerable confidence in Narcissa's judgement, and followed her orders. She had decreed that each time he was to go into society, he was to arrive at the Black House and wait until his bodyguard appeared, either Kingsley, Jeremy, or Oliver Pearson, whom he knew slightly from school, before proceeding to their destination, usually by apparation. Amelia Bones was totally behind the efforts to rehabilitate Harry into society, and was happy to authorise the expenditure. In any case, the Aurors had been under-occupied since so many of the less desirable wizards had died as Death Eaters. There was little crime these days.

Harry accepted the help without a qualm. The wizarding world had betrayed him, punished him, and then treated him with contempt. But he'd rid them of an evil. They owed him.

The next outing was to be a dinner party at Malfoy Manor. Mary wasn't going, and he was told only that she was not feeling well, but the moment he saw her, he knew her devastation at the loss of the unborn babe. He wanted to offer his sympathy, but he wasn't supposed to be aware of her grief. Narcissa distracted him with her question, "Can you dance, Harry?" and she went on with scarcely a pause, "I don't suppose you do."

"Not very well, Narcissa."

"Then I'll teach you, and for now, we'll refuse any invitations to balls. Probably too many people at a ball, in any case. By next year, maybe."

"Balls?"

Narcissa said sharply, "It's a common entertainment among our class. You must not imply any criticism; we're trying to make people _forget_ your Muggle connections."

"Yes, Narcissa." If he wanted to become part of the scenery, accepted as a wizard, he must remember that. And even when he wasn't liking Narcissa very much, she was being very useful to him. He wasn't quite sure why she'd decided to do this, - maybe it was simply that she enjoyed a challenge.

Again the dinner party went well, Draco and Marie, brothers Charlie and Connor Greaves and their wives, Padma and Parvati, formerly Patil. Blaise Zabini, a couple of others. The Patil twins treated him as a hero, which made him a little uncomfortable, but was far better than contempt or hostility. They had to be of mixed blood, as to his knowledge, there were no populations of wizards in the Asian countries.

There was also the Auror, Oliver Pearson, there in his role as bodyguard, but treated as just another guest. Oliver was perfectly friendly, and Harry went home feeling much more kindly toward the wizarding world than he had been. Perhaps it would not be so difficult after all to become part of it again.

Narcissa found teaching Harry to dance somewhat disquieting. It was not that he was a poor learner, he had an innate ease of movement that made dancing easy for him, but being close and touching for longer than a brief touch of lips to her hand made her very aware of his immense power. It was never shown outwardly, and she hugged the knowledge to herself. No-one else knew. It was almost a sexual experience for her to spend a half hour with him, and after the first of the dancing lessons, she hired a female dance teacher. Three times weekly, and only once the teacher was gone did she have a few dances with him, 'to see how he was progressing.'

She was very good at shielding her mind, and Harry didn't guess at the effort she made to show herself only friendly and helpful.

There were two more quite small entertainments for Harry, one at the sprawling Longbottom Manor, with Neville and Ginny, and then another at the home of Bill Weasley and Fleur, his wife, but Narcissa admitted that she was having difficulty having any of the more important families consider him with anything less than disdain. The visit to Van Reginald Carlyle hadn't eventuated, - it was rumoured that his memory and judgement were becoming erratic in his old age; he'd probably simply forgotten.

His other life went on, making their small unit comfortable, the house warming party, mostly with university friends invited, plus Ian and Chris, attending classes, and visiting 'Home' at the Chases, once when Paul was visiting for a weekend. It was his first visit back to the Chases, as Ross had thought it better to leave him to settle down at Kreighley for a time first.

There was another gathering at the Black's place. Harry didn't have the customary bodyguard that day, no-one thought it needed at the Black's place. For the first time, he was subject to unpleasantness. Narcissa had counted it a triumph that Eric Bowen had agreed to come, heir to Van Callum Bowen. But Eric watched Harry with speculation in his eyes, and Harry knew just exactly what he was thinking. It was made obvious when Eric followed Harry to the bathroom, entered behind him, and seized the opportunity to crowd him against a wall and try and fondle. Without messing about, Harry struck, hitting him as hard as he could on the chin. Bowen stumbled to the floor, fighting to pull his wand, but Harry had already let himself out.

Narcissa was inclined to blame him for somehow inciting the incident thereby undermining her efforts, and wound up her lecture by saying firmly, "And for heaven's sake, don't tell Sirius. He's in no state to fight any more duels on your behalf."

"Should I go then?"

"That would be a breach of courtesy. Just stay away from Mr. Bowen. He's a very important man."

Harry shook his head, "I think you're wasting your time with me, Narcissa. I will not tolerate anyone groping, important man or not."

Narcissa's voice softened, "Sorry, Harry. It's not your fault." She gently touched his cheek, feeling the immediate excitement race through her. She'd go to Sirius tonight.

A few days later at the Bowen Mansion, Eric Bowen dined with his father, Van Callum Bowen. The two wives of Eric were not present, and neither was the wife of the Vanie.

After the usual pleasantries, Callum asked, "And how did you find dining with the Muggle?"

"Pleasant in some ways, though not in others. I can't fathom Narcissa trying to pass him off as a respectable wizard. He had no idea how to behave, and once was quite rude to me. I'm not even sure he knew he was being rude. I don't think he's very bright."

Callum smiled, "A pretty boy, though. I wouldn't mind having him." There were always a few slaves at the Bowen Mansion.

"He's tempting, but not such a boy any more," and Eric added in a tone of distaste, "He doesn't even shave properly I think. I happened to brush his cheek, and it was quite rough."

"That's easy enough to deal with. I'd very much enjoy making him pay for those we've lost. If I have anything to do with it, Narcissa will not succeed in having him ever accepted. Most of us feel the same."

The Bowen family was No. 7 in Harry's book of important Pure-blood Houses, while the Blacks were numbered 24, among the lesser families of Pure-bloods. The Potter House had been numbered 25, but Harry knew perfectly well that he had no influence whatever.

***chapter end***


	12. Chapter 12

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: * 'Cerlikh' is when Voldemort was defeated, and all his Death Eaters either killed or severely affected by his death. * The 'Vanie' are the hereditary 'Nobles' of Wizardkind._

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 12**_

It was the fourth October, nearly noon. Hermione cuddled a tiny baby in her arms, while Tracey watched from her bed. She had an excellent Healer, there had been no pain and no strain, or not that she'd felt, yet she was very tired. The Healer told her it was perfectly natural, that her body was undergoing changes, and the fatigue was to tell her to rest.

Vayden entered softly, went to her straightaway, and kissed her tenderly. She was the honoured first wife and mother of his son. He presented her with a valuable necklace to mark the occasion, even before turning to inspect the crumpled face of his new-born son. Hermione smiled at him. He'd been worrying, pacing the floor for the whole of the three hours it had taken since the Healer had done a check, made a spell, and told Tracey that it would be today. She asked, "Do you want to hold him?"

Vayden looked at the tiny baby almost with suspicion, and asked, "How?"

When he was established sitting next to his wife and holding his son, Tracey extended a hand and touched his face before closing her eyes. She could sleep now. The baby was to be called Reginald, after his grandfather. Van Reginald Carlyle had died just a few days before, and Tonius and his wife were preparing to move into his spacious suite of rooms. Tonius was now the Vanie, Vayden's brother Linley the heir. Until Linley sired a son, this little Reginald was in line after Linley and Vayden.

_hphphphp_

At Kreighley, Kevin Stern expertly swung his wheelchair to where Paul Knight was drawing. Paul had his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, presumably to help him concentrate. Kevin asked, "What you up to, Paul?"

Paul said, "Birthday card."

"Let's see."

Paul handed it over, and Kevin studied the card, the crude drawing of a fishing boat, and the painstakingly drawn letters. Paul said, "Warren wrote, and me to copy. So I don't do it wrong, you see?"

"Lee? That's the one you talk about. Is it his birthday?"

Paul said proudly, "Today, and Mr. Davies is going to take me to the Chase place for a surprise for him."

Kevin regarded the 'cupboard kid,' still timid, still frightened of adults, but far better than he'd been. He asked, "You going alone with him?"

Paul said, "Yes," sounding a little confused.

Kevin shook his head, "Don't you remember our rules? Never be alone with a screw."

Paul stared, afraid that he wouldn't be allowed to go. He always followed the rules, even when he didn't understand them. He asked timidly, "Is Mr. Davies a screw?"

"Of course he is. Don't you know anything?"

Paul stared down at his birthday card, unsure what to do. Kevin said with an air of benevolence, "I'll tell you what. I'll come too, and then you won't be alone."

"Will you? Thanks Kev."

"That's all right, Mate. We'd best tell the Boss."

A little later, Vera Chase found her husband. She was still chuckling as she told the story, that Paul had asked Ross if Kevin could come with him because he wasn't allowed to be alone with a screw. "Ross said he was quite sure he didn't know the reason, and had no idea that the request might be seen as insulting."

"Kevin? That's the one in the wheelchair, isn't it?"

"That's right, but Ross says he won't need any special help except for getting the chair up steps, and anyway, there'll be you and Ross, as well as the boys to help if he needs help."

"Do you think he'll be rude?"

"Ross says he's _always_ rude."

But Kevin wasn't rude to anyone that evening, just enjoying the party, and looking after Paul, who wasn't sure he liked so many grown-ups around. Not that there were many, - just the Chases, and then there were two loud young men who used to be at Kreighley the same as Lee did, and grown-up women too, Sarah, and Ian had brought a girlfriend, a bright blonde who laughed a lot. He didn't like her, and stayed well away. Dan and Jason were with them for a time, but then they joined the gathering of young men instead.

On the table was a pile of presents, and Lee had shown his pleasure as he opened each one, from the birthday card from Paul, to the mobile phone with paid-up two year plan from the Chases. Paul was watching him from his position beside and slightly behind Kevin, who wasn't afraid of anything.

Harry had been laughing with the other young men, but then brought over some soft drinks and lollies for the pair sitting to the side, and asked what was happening at Kreighley these days.

Kevin answered him, "There's a new kid, just eleven, but he's a bugger. He yells at everyone, and won't make friends."

"Is he frightened of people?"

"Not unless hitting and kicking at anyone who comes close is being frightened."

"It makes you wonder what sort of place he came from."

Paul said, "He comes from space. He told me."

"I heard he told someone else he was in the circus."

"What's his name?"

"Stinker Murray."

"_Stinker_ Murray?"

"That's what he says his name is, but the boss calls him Theodore. He hasn't been to school yet."

"Stinker. You know for a while when I was little, I thought my name was 'Freak,' or maybe 'Boy,' because that was what I was called. It was a while before I even knew my name. Maybe this 'Stinker' is the same."

Kevin spoke sceptically, "Maybe, and maybe it's because he's a bloody stinker."

Harry shrugged, and said to Paul, "Your card was good."

"I've got a special teacher, Mr. Campbell. He has Aaron as well. He's a big boy but he missed out on a lot of school, he said. And the rest of the time it's Mrs. Bettison, but I don't like her."

Kevin put in, "Campbell's the Sports teacher. And he helps me exercise. He's a good bloke."

"So Mr. Clark's gone?"

"There's no Mr. Clark."

Paul asked, "Are you learning things too?"

"History, some Geography, Environmental Studies, English Literature, but I'm already regretting signing up for that. The first book assigned is just a medley of pretentious maunderings, I thought."

"What's pretensh...?"

"Pretentious maunderings. Using long words only to sound clever, pretending to significance when you're only waffling..."

Kevin suddenly chortled, and confided, "Donna does that."

Paul nodded, "I never know what she's talking about. I've asked if I can stop going."

Harry grinned, "If you're improved enough to ask that, then I expect she'll take full credit for it."

"You know Donna?"

"I've met her. She does the best she knows."

"And I'm growing really fast. I have to see the doctor only every month now, but every time he says I'm taller and heavier."

James Chase raised his voice, "Lee, you have to cut the cake now."

Kevin regarded it critically, and asked, "Why are there no candles to blow out?"

Harry grinned as he explained, "That's Vera. She thinks that people blowing over food is barbaric, unhygienic and very possibly criminal!"

Kevin laughed, but Paul only looked confused, as Harry went to be hugged and congratulated on reaching the age of eighteen. He felt a little guilty, especially when he noticed Ross Davies looking sceptical. The 'Harry Potter' that certain people had been searching for was named as nineteen. But admitting that he was living under a false identity might make Vera worry that his adoption wasn't legal. And quite soon, he intended to marry as Ricky Lee Chase, usually known as Lee Chase.

The evening wore on and Paul started to become a nuisance to everyone's surprise, and Vera said something about 'red cordial maybe.'

Ross said calmly, "He's just over-excited. I'll take them home soon."

"I suppose he's never been to a party." But then Kevin called Paul over and instructed him to show him to the toilet. Paul was much quieter when they returned, and didn't dream of arguing when Ross said they were leaving.

Harry waved them off, and said to Vera and James, "He's far better, isn't he?"

"I never expected him to start running around and yelling like that."

"Kevin's an interesting boy. I spoke to him for quite a while."

"Does he know you were at Kreighley?"

"No, and I didn't tell him. Paul whispered to me early on that he's told no-one at all."

James said, "Ross said there hadn't been any enquiries recently. On the other hand, Tremaine told me that there's still a price on your head."

"I was talking to Ross. He was saying that Nick doesn't think he can get into the course he wants, apparently to study to be a solicitor requires very high marks. So he's planning to repeat the year, looking for higher marks."

"The University of Cornwall? Does that offer the course?"

"I'm not sure, but I spoke to Tremaine, and he said that even if it did, it had too little prestige. Anyway, I admitted to Ross about the Tom Foundation, and he didn't turn a hair. He said that Nick could stay an extra year if he wanted, no problem, and I told him the Tom Foundation would fund his course wherever he wants."

James asked, "How many of the Kreighley boys know you're still living close."

"I saw Nick and Malcolm down the street the other day. They were with a couple of younger ones. I know they saw me, but they didn't acknowledge me. Probably many of them know, but they're not broadcasting the knowledge."

"I'm very pleased to hear it."

Harry yawned, and Vera said, "Bed, I think. Dan and Jason have already gone."

The following afternoon, Kevin was regarding 'Stinker' thoughtfully. Was it possible he really didn't know his own name? Certainly 'Theodore' seemed totally inappropriate. He watched as one of the older boys brushed against him, and the small boy whirled on him, fists raised, ready to attack. They were hardly ever told any background of the new boys who arrived now and then, but he'd been at Kreighley over a year now, and knew that many of them had come from very poor homes.

He called out, "Hey Stinker. Come here."

Stinker turned and regarded him with a sneer, then sauntered over, a nasty expression on his face. "Just b'coz yer a cripple don't mean I won't beat the crap out o' yer!"

Kevin raised an eyebrow, "Why would you? I can't chase you, and my arms are getting too weak now even to hit hard. I can't hurt, so there's no need to hit me."

Stinker looked a little uncertain, and then said, "Maybe I just like hurtin' fuckers like you. And you'd be easy to hurt."

"Probably not actually. I'm a Kreighley boy, you see. And Kreighley boys stick together. If you tried to hurt me, someone would stop you."

Stinker stuck his hands in his pocket, a defiant expression on his face, "So what you want then, _Cripple!"_

"I don't like your name. You don't stink any more than anyone else, and Theodore is for wimps. I reckon you've gotta have a new name. Like a dog that gets a poncy name as a pup, but then grows up."

Stinker just stared, a little intrigued, a little wary.

Kevin continued, "I knew a dog once. He was brown, a bit freckled-like, and he used to scrap with every other dog that came near. He had scars all over him from fighting. It was a Staffordshire, someone said, and they called him Staffy. I reckon I'll call you Staffy too, after the dog."

Stinker was utterly confused. A kindly approach would be rejected. He knew not to be fooled. An aggressive attack was to be fought tooth and nail. But this... he didn't know how to handle this. And it was the cripple, who couldn't hurt him if he tried. He wheeled away and stalked off.

He was rolling over and over in the dirt fighting with Tim later in the day, but when Ross rebuked him, and called him Theodore, he told him aggressively, "My name's Staffy."

"Then _Staffy_, I want you and Tim both to sweep the sand off the beach ramp as punishment for fighting."

Staffy didn't move, and Tim said, "Come on Staffy. The beach brooms are in that lean-to next to Lionel's shed."

Slowly, acting as if it was entirely his own idea, Staffy moved towards the said lean-to. Tim was three years older than Staffy. Staffy had started the fight. As they were sweeping the beach access, kept clear of sand for Kevin's wheelchair, Staffy asked, "What's the matter with the cripple?" It was the first time he'd said something that was simply conversation.

_hphphphp_

Sarah said to Harry, "Father has agreed finally. No big formal wedding, just a quiet one with family and a few friends, but Mum insists on a church wedding, even though she scarcely ever goes. She's Church of England."

Harry nodded, "So's Vera, and I don't mind."

"I thought the 28th December or close to it. That way you can have Christmas with your family, then I was wondering..."

She stopped, and Harry looked questioning. Sarah blushed, "You did say you have lots of money. I'd like a stay at a tropical island. Someplace where we can get sunburnt, and where there's tropical fish and coral."

"Sounds great."

"And Father says I have to allow him to pay all expenses for the wedding, also to go to a special dressmaker that Aimee knows. And he'll pay for the dress, especially designed for me."

"I thought Aimee was no longer with him."

"I thought so too, but it seems he still sees her, even though there's a new girlfriend." She shrugged, "Probably just because Aimee left him for a change, he's suddenly interested again. It would be ironic if they wind up marrying after all."

"The 28th December." Harry smiled, "I look forward to it."

_hphphphp_

Harry continued to socialise among wizards, but nearly always, it was only among the less important families according to Narcissa. She was still trying, talking to her old acquaintances among the Pure-blood fraternity, and pointing out that he had the favour of the Minister for Magic. No matter how important the Vanie were, the Minister for Magic still held ultimate power. On her strong advice, he didn't fraternise with the Muggle-borns. According to her, it could make them targets. He suspected it was more because she didn't want his image further tarnished.

In the middle of November, Narcissa had her few dances with Harry after the dancing instructor left, announced him competent, and then smiled at him, "An important landmark. On the 15th December, there's to be a function to welcome two new Wizemgamot members, and I've been promised an invitation for you, a partner if you like."

"What sort of function?"

"About two hundred people, a big dinner, the formalities investing Alexander Scrimgeour as a member of the Wizemgamot, also Tonius Carlyle, who's Vanie now his father's dead, and no doubt a few speeches."

"It sounds deadly."

Narcissa was stern, "These are the people who matter, and you're to be among them. Sirius and I, of course, representatives from the Vanie families and from most other of the Pure-bloods. A few Mixed-bloods probably, for effect, but there are few of those who are viewed as significant."

"I suppose Neville will be there, probably Vayden and Hermione."

"Vayden and Tracey, no doubt. Almost certainly not Hermione."

Harry said, exasperated, "Is there nothing that will have a Muggle-born accepted?"

"Not that I know of," said Narcissa in a dispassionate voice.

Harry shook his head, and said, "I suppose I'd best attend."

"Sirius wants you to find a partner, but check with me before inviting anyone."

"Would it be a good idea?"

"A nice Pure-blood girl would add immensely to your prestige."

"Luna Lovegood?"

Narcissa said decidedly, "Not Luna."

"Anyone else might think I mean something with the invitation, and I don't."

"Marrying well is the absolute best thing you could do."

Harry laughed, "Oh, I intend to marry well, but I'm quite sure you won't approve."

Narcissa regarded him narrowly, and then announced, "If you marry a Muggle, I wash my hands of you."

"I haven't yet, and maybe you _should _wash your hands of me. I don't think you have a hope of gaining me any true acceptance."

"How was the Supper Party last night?"

"Much as usual. No threats, but I spent most of the night fending off curious questions by nearly everyone there. Ernie and Jacinta were fine, but there were a couple of girls who spent the night acting like fools."

"Drooling like love-struck adolescents?"

"Pretty much. I really don't understand it."

"They would have been Muggle-borns probably, whose lives you may have saved, or that's what many of them think. They probably have one of those rather objectionable posters."

"One showed me a large card with that picture. I think I prefer the outright contempt of people like the Bowens and Ryans."

"Have you seen those?"

"Just a sneer when I went through the new Aniragia. Oliver was with me."

"Albuston. You might not like it, but it's called Albuston."

Harry wrinkled his nose, "To think he was my grandfather! And Hermione's father, and Mary's."

Narcissa nodded, "And many others."

There was a much more exclusive supper party a few days later, and someone said, "I hear the _Muggle_ is to be attending the Investiture Dinner."

There were murmurs of disgust, and someone said, "He only has one Auror as protection," and Hugh Warrington, now head of the Vanie Council, said coolly, "We will not attack Aurors."

Another of the Vanie, Clarence Ryan, asked, "As long as we're not seen?"

Warrington said positively, "Not the Aurors. We are not criminals."

"Potter?"

Warrington shrugged, "If you like, as long as it's totally discreet."

Each of the eight men of the company had lost friends and family as a result of Cerlikh. Lester Steinway had not only lost his father and brother because of Harry Potter, but the affair had cost the Steinways the hereditary position as Chairman of the Vanie Council. The Warringtons had taken over, and could easily rule for several generations as the Steinways had done. Ryan was only Vanie because his elder brothers had died as Death Eaters, and while pleased with his elevated status, he also relished the thought of having the youth at his mercy. All the Ryans had a reputation for cruelty.

Jessem McLaggen wasn't interested in having the boy for sex, though he'd been willing to pay a large amount of money for him once. He very well remembered how furious the boy had looked when he'd inspected him. He'd seemed so tempting then, an attractive, helpless boy, former wizard, crippled by Albus Dumbledore. Sex had been important to him then, but he'd lost interest quite soon after that meeting. It had never occurred to McLaggen that his impotence had anything to do with Harry's anger.

If he found him? The others might like him of course, and he wondered what advantage he could gain if he did come across him. Maybe it was worth making some effort in the endeavour.

_hphphphp_

Late in November, Sarah and Aimee were in South Kensington, not far from 'Madame la Modiste,' the fashionable seamstress who was making Sarah's wedding dress. The coffee shop they were patronising had their prices at three times what Sarah considered reasonable, but Aimee had waved off her irritation at the overcharge, merely saying she wanted coffee, and it was a handy place for Lee to meet them. He and Sarah were to spend the night at the home of Sarah's father before returning to Falmouth.

Aimee said to Sarah, "Are you _sure_ you won't colour your hair?"

Sarah shook her head, and Aimee sighed. Sarah said, "I _have_ agreed to wear a corset."

"It's a _torslette,_ not a corset. It will make your waist more narrow, and accentuate your figure. You'll look beautiful. Final fitting on Friday."

"How is your Bridesmaid dress going?"

"It's not important. This is _your_ day."

Sarah smiled at the young woman. It was a real surprise that Aimee had become a friend. She'd never had any real friends at school, no enemies either, merely friendly or indifferent acquaintances. And yet this one, whom Lee still regarded as a bit dim, had shown her real consideration, real help.

Aimee said casually, "Tremaine has had a fight with Belinda. Serves him right for finding a girl with brains. He should have stuck to the doormat type like me."

"Do you want him back?"

"Remember when you told him you were not having him as a father any more? He treats you very differently now. He _boasts_ about you to other people even. He scarcely mentioned you before. It's a lesson. If he wants me back, he'll have to work very hard for it. And it's not like people think. It was never because he's a rich man. I have enough money myself." Aimee did three days a week as a paid worker in a charitable organisation that her mother ran, but her wealth had been inherited.

Sarah finished her small cup of coffee, and remarked, "I far prefer a mug for coffee. A cup is never quite enough."

"Is Lee nervous?"

"He says he has not the slightest doubt in the world that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me, so there's no need to be nervous."

Aimee admitted, "I'm envious. He says lovely things to you, he's goodlooking, and he's clever."

"I couldn't believe my luck when he wanted to be my boyfriend. I thought it would probably be just a few weeks maybe. I was aware of him for years, and he always had a girlfriend, and always seemed to be happy with them, even the ones I thought shallow and selfish." She thought she saw Aimee looking a little sceptical, and shook her head, laughing, "And no, I don't think he liked them just for sex!"

"He does like sex though."

Sarah blushed and admitted, "He likes sex, and so do I. And he loves me and he likes me, and I think that liking is very important. Liking lasts, you see, and loving doesn't necessarily last."

"Maybe you're right." Aimee looked a little pensive for a moment, before returning to the subject of the wedding, just over a month away. "Are _you _nervous?"

"I'm not the nervous type."

Aimee raised an elegant eyebrow, and Sarah admitted, "I worry that something will go wrong, that it won't happen."

Aimee assured her, "Nothing will go wrong."

Harry hurried. He was late and he knew that Sarah worried about him sometimes.

A dirty man with straggly ginger hair watched him, eyes narrowing as he took in the features, familiar from recent photographs supplied by his patron. His name was Mundungus Fletcher, a shady character whose loyalties were for sale, except that he would never dare to cross Jessem McLaggen. It was pure circumstance that he'd happened to spot Harry.

He wasn't sure yet, and only followed. He was good at being inconspicuous in spite of his unkempt appearance. The young man had blonde hair, but there had been a rumour that Harry Potter had been spotted as a blonde Muggle. It had been long assumed that he hid in the Muggle world.

It didn't take long to understand that Potter was soon to be married, the fiancée the one with big breasts. She wasn't pretty, but Fletcher's tastes were basic, and he liked big breasts. If he took the fiancée, she might not only come in useful, but he might easily have a chance at her. Mr. McLaggen could probably do the obliviate spell, though it was tricky, and he couldn't perform it himself. He might simply kill her of course, but he thought it unlikely.

It wasn't until Aimee had gone, and Sarah and Harry were alone, that he hit the centre of Harry's back with his stunner, then dealt with Sarah.

***chapter end***


	13. Chapter 13

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: 'Cerlikh' is the occasion of Voldemort's defeat, when he was killed, and most of his Death Eaters also killed. Often referred to as the Cerlikh Catastrophe. The 'Vanie' are the hereditary 'Nobles' of Wizardkind. __Reminder of Characters__: Vance McKenzie is the Chief Auror, Wallace Pettit is the Ministry worker in charge of the Hall of Prophecies. * __Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 13**_

Sarah was boiling with fury. That she was only there to ensure that Lee behaved, that that ghastly smelly man had been able to grope her breasts, simply by uttering a spell that made her very weak and slow to move, even that he'd been so casually killed, not because he'd molested her, but because the big man, 'Mr. McLaggen Sir,' had ascertained that he'd told no-one else that he had Harry Potter, and then killed him to ensure his future discretion.

Lee was still unconscious, lying helpless on the other bed in their prison. Once awake, she'd have him _kill_ the big man. She'd never wanted to kill a man before, but now she did. Maybe all of them. There was to be a quite big meeting in a few hours, and she was to persuade Lee to bathe, dress as he was told, and to be obedient. If he didn't behave, she was to be tortured, and she'd been subject to a few seconds of such unbearable agony she could never have imagined. Several times more powerful than any other wizard, Lee had said, but he didn't look at all powerful at the moment.

When McLaggen returned, it was with a collar and a sheer garment of emerald green, which he slung over a chair. Their prison seemed a perfectly ordinary large bedroom, with an adjoining bathroom and toilet, - except that bars crossed the room, separating them from the door into the corridor. She hadn't had a chance to test for weaknesses yet, still in that state of near paralysis that Fletcher had inflicted.

McLaggen said, quite gently, "You need not be afraid of me, girl. As long as Harry behaves, and you behave, you will be returned to your own life, only that you will have forgotten ever being here." McLaggen didn't know their Muggle names. She'd had the wit to call herself Anne, and he hadn't even asked what Lee was called. Lee seldom carried identification, and luckily she'd dropped her handbag when Lee was hit. There was nothing that said Sarah Lassiter, nothing that said Lee Chase, and no address.

She concealed her utter hatred, and asked, "What is to happen to John?"

"His name is Harry Potter. He won't be hurt either. He'll be perfectly happy in his new life."

Jessem McLaggen turned away from her and walked over to Harry, inspecting him with a slight smile on his face. Almost tenderly, he brushed his fringe away from the faded scar on his forehead, and ran a finger over it. Harry Potter. That he could present Harry Potter to the Vanie was quite a coup. Not only was he worth money, but this achievement could advance his status within the group. There was always some jockeying for position. The one the Dark Lord had had. He waved his wand, and Harry's clothing disappeared. McLaggen inspected with some regret. He wouldn't have considered letting him go to anyone else just a couple of years before.

Sarah fumed, but made no sound and was ignored. She couldn't help her horrified exclamation when McLaggen took the collar, placed it around Harry's neck, and then tapped it with his wand, sealing the join. McLaggen said to her, "You have lost him, girl. The only way you can help him now is by persuading him not to misbehave. He'll be hurt if he tries to fight."

"We were to be married!"

McLaggen shook his head, "Not any longer. But don't worry. Just as long as your 'John' doesn't do anything stupid, I expect him to be treated as a treasure."

"When will he wake?"

"When I'm ready."

"That collar?"

"The collar can be used to punish him with pain. If he behaves, there will be no need to punish."

"So it's just for hurting?"

McLaggen smiled. So far it was. Just what spells the new owner might choose was up to him. He retreated again behind the bars, waved a casual wand, and Sarah found she could move normally again.

Two hours later he was back, and found Sarah sitting close to Harry, who was now modestly covered with a sheet. He ordered her out of the way, pulled his wand and made a spell. Sarah tensed, but there was no visible effect of the spell. She repeated the incantation to herself, ensuring that she remembered it. Lee might know what it had been, just a quick wave of the wand over his lower abdomen, and a couple of quiet words in Latin. Then another, and he glanced at her, and said, "None of these spells are at all harmful to him." Another over his head, this one silent. Again there was no visible effect.

McLaggen stroked over Harry's face, regretful. He hadn't wanted Harry hurt, but while Hugh Warrington had agreed to allow him to sell him to the highest bidder, he'd specified that as many who wanted be allowed to have him first. He wanted to see him thoroughly humiliated. He guessed the boy could be made to forget afterwards, and with any luck, could still live as a treasured pet. Only himself and Hugh Warrington, the Chairman, knew what the special Vanie meeting was about. McLaggen didn't expect any to dispute his right to sell him, and Hugh had been very pleased.

He idly wondered who would be the successful bidder. Hugh had indicated that he didn't want him for himself, though he'd relish seeing him thoroughly humiliated. Maybe Marcus Lyons, he had a taste for pretty boys and would be kind, and so would Garrick Vanden. Henry Pettit, on the other hand, had a reputation for cruelty, and a lot of Pettits had died in Cerlikh. Probably though, it would be Benson Zabini. Benson had wanted him for years.

He turned to Sarah and repeated his instructions. Harry had to be obedient. If he wasn't, it was Sarah who would be hurt, as they didn't want Harry damaged.

Sarah nodded, "I understand." She knew what they had to do now, and was full of a fierce determination. It would only be a matter of persuading Lee, who would probably want to escape the moment he woke up. If she had her way, McLaggen, who wasn't even human as she was human, would be dead quite soon along with all the others. They had no _right_ to treat them like this, to auction off her man to the highest bidder! He had a _collar_ around his neck! That was the only risk, that the collar might make him not want to fight. McLaggen had said it was only to punish if needed, and if Lee had been correct, further spells needed to be attuned to a particular wizard, and the prospective owner had not yet been decided. All of them! Each representative of this barbaric culture was marked for death. Sarah, intelligent, calm, tolerant Sarah, intended only murder for the bastards who wanted her man.

Harry woke with a start, and came close to total panic when he found the collar around his neck. Sarah flew to him, grabbing his hands before he wrenched off the collar, and talked to him firmly and calmly. They were to trick the bastard wizards, kill the whole bastard Council, and only then leave.

Harry stared at her, panting in his fear. He'd been too much traumatised in past years, and had never fully understood just how powerful he was. Sarah continued, "They haven't decided who's to have you, so the spells on the collar can't have been cast yet. And they have me to make you behave. They wouldn't have bothered with me if the spells made it so you didn't want to leave."

Harry stared at her, still wide-eyed, but beginning to be able to think again. "Did they hurt you?"

"The one who caught us molested me, but the big man, McLaggen his name is, killed him. It was so he wouldn't tell anyone else that they had you. And then McLaggen hurt me, but only for a few seconds. He said it was the spell of pain, and they'd do it to me if you didn't behave."

Harry pleaded, "You have to let me take you away! You're not safe here. Then I'll come back if you want, and kill them all."

Sarah shook her head and said coldly, "I want them dead, and I want to see it. There's to be a meeting of important men, he said, and they plan to auction you off to the highest bidder."

"And it's McLaggen has us?"

"McLaggen," Sarah confirmed. "I think it's probably the Council of Vanie you told me about. You said they were the leaders. If they are such criminals, monsters without conscience, they should be killed. See how they do with their blasted heads chopped off."

Harry made a face, "I don't actually want to chop off their heads. Too messy."

Sarah greeted this sign of returning rationality with relief, and proceeded to detail her plan. He was to insist that he would only behave if she was close, he was to shower, wash his hair, and put on the pants provided. "And there were spells. One was probably so you'd wake, I think, and two others," and she told him the incantations.

Harry frowned as he thought, and then turned red. Sarah asked "What?" but he only answered that they were harmless. The spell for internal cleanliness was a strong indication that McLaggen expected him to be used for sex before very long, and he glanced at the sheer garment left for him with a look of loathing. The other spell he didn't recognise at all, but realised what it had been as he was showering. His legs were bare of hair, and he noticed that the few hairs on his chest had also vanished. Just another to make him appear more desirable he supposed, and maybe younger than he was.

By the time that McLaggen returned, he was sitting on the bed next to Sarah, holding her hand. His chest was bare, and he was dressed in the brightly coloured silken pants, slung low on the hip, long and loose fitting. His hair was freshly shampooed, shining. His eyes were downcast. Sarah stared at the big man, appearing frightened.

McLaggen smiled, very pleased. It appeared that the threat of torture had had the desired effect. Harry Potter looked much like any other freshly taken slave, subdued and very frightened. He took care to use an encouraging, kindly tone, again assuring them that they would not be hurt, neither he nor 'Anne.'

Harry asked timidly, "Sir, what happened to my 'Protected' status? Minister Bones and four members of the Wizemgamot said I was not to be persecuted. And Mr. Ogden was Vanie. Won't you be in trouble for hurting me?"

"Twenty Vanie are to be present, all of us but Van Ogden, who is ill. None declined this opportunity. Somehow I don't think I will be _in trouble_, as you put it."

Harry shuddered, and said, very quietly, "I have to have Anne with me. I don't think I can manage without her." His voice trembled a little. Partly it was acting, but also, whatever Sarah said, he was very frightened. He had a collar around his neck! What if they'd been wrong? What if he saw one particular wizard, and was suddenly happy to be his slave? Surely they were taking too big a gamble! But if he killed McLaggen only, took Sarah and fled, it would be known that Harry Potter had magic, and powerful magic, as only a very powerful wizard could defeat the anti-apparation wards that were standard in any wizarding home. They'd found him before, they could find him again.

McLaggen still hadn't entered the walled area, and now two other wizards entered. Harry recognised one of them as Kirk Brooks, but was unsure of the other. Both quite young, and both ready with their wands. McLaggen said again, "Remember, Harry. Behave and you won't be hurt. Be silly, and your girl will be very severely hurt. I understand you have experienced the Cruciatus Curse at the hands of the Dark Lord."

Harry murmured, "Yes, Sir. I don't want her hurt." He still had his head down, and his voice was subdued, but when he and Sarah were led out to face the meeting, he took a deep breath, and his fear dropped away. It was a fight, and Harry Potter had always been a fighter.

Sarah sensed the difference in him and squeezed his hand. His scarcely disguised fear had been a surprise to her. It was not like him.

Three wizards with them, another seventeen watching curiously as they were taken to their places. Harry carried his head high, in spite of his collar and the slave garb. Inside he was very deeply relieved that he still had no impulse to submit to this slavery.

With a stance almost arrogant, he looked around, studying each face. Most he recognised, Draco Malfoy was there, looking grim, Benson Zabini, Kenneth Abercrombie. Kenneth was only a couple of years older than himself, a former Ravenclaw and Head Prefect. His father had died in Cerlikh, as had many other Abercrombies. Tonius Carlyle. He'd met Tonius when he'd had dinner with Vayden, Hermione and Tracy. Then there were the older ones, most of whom he recognised from Voldemort's knowledge, Zacharius Parkinson, with a gloating look on his face, Garrick Liddicombe, Callum Bowen, Victor Bulstrode, and Clarence Ryan, the only one of the three Ryan brothers who'd declined to be Marked as a Death Eater.

There was a silence as the wizards studied him, the boy who'd defeated the powerful one. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Child of Light, the Chosen One. Harry asked softly, "And are you all happy to see the head of the House of Potter, son of James Potter, grandson of Van Gerion Potter, sold into slavery? You, each of you the Head of your House, most of you members of the Wizemgamot?"

There was some uneasy shuffling, as if some might have felt shamed, but there was also a loud laugh, Clarence Ryan, who said lightly, "Personally, I can't wait."

Draco Malfoy suggested, "Maybe we should have a vote? Harry is a wizard. It is not suitable that a wizard be treated like this."

The Chairman, Warrington, asked, "How many here want the boy to be allowed free, and how many want an auction?"

Draco glanced at Tonius Carlyle, who stood forward, "I do not agree that the boy be auctioned. He is Protected, and should be allowed free."

Draco added, "And myself. I don't want Harry enslaved."

Warrington glanced around, "Any other objections?"

Marcus Lyons said quite casually, "Normally, I'd agree with Tonius and Draco. But the temptation is too much. He is quite beautiful and I can't wait to touch."

Another added, "And anyway, he'd have to be obliviated, and that's likely to damage him. Wizards are not as easily obliviated as Muggles."

Harry said, "You have just acknowledged me as Wizard, Van Kent."

Kent shrugged, "Maybe, but it's scarcely relevant. I go along with the majority, and the majority clearly want you punished for Cerlikh."

Warrington asked again, "Any other objections?"

There was a silence, and Warrington asked, "Draco, Tonius, you will follow the Oath of Loyalty of course?"

Draco said, "Sorry, Harry. I can't go against them," and Tonius said, resigned, "We will both be loyal to the Vanie. I do not wish to participate in a sordid public rape, however. And those who do should be ashamed of themselves."

Harry glanced at Sarah with the silent question, _Now?_ She spoke for the first time, "So just two of the so-called leaders of the wizarding world have some sense of ethics?"

McLaggen hissed, "Silence girl."

Ryan asked in a tone of mild amusement, "Do you think he'll scream?"

McLaggen said, "I will take the girl back to the prison. Please do not start without me."

Harry stepped back a little, away from McLaggen who'd still been close, and suddenly there was a rapid crackling, starting with McLaggen then seeming to circle the room. One thought he felt something, and pulled his wand out of its holster, staring at the broken thing in bewilderment. Harry had made no indication that he was doing magic, but McLaggen and then Ryan had already fallen, and now, quite quickly, more wizards were falling, one by one around the circle.

Draco was the first to realise, and yelled, "Harry, don't! I argued for you." The one to his right fell, and then Draco, but Draco still breathed. Three more, and Sarah and Harry were the only ones left standing.

Sarah stared, and asked in a hushed voice, "Are they all dead?"

Harry was perfectly calm and detached now, "All but Draco and Carlyle. They were not in agreement." He glanced around at the ring of bodies, "The heads of eighteen Vanie families. Maybe their heirs will do better."

"Time to go?"

"The live ones have to forget us first."

Sarah was trembling now, while Harry was icy calm. He'd killed before. Sarah had never seen a dead person.

It was the same when they arrived home, Harry still in the garb of a slave, and Sarah's trembling becoming stronger until she was crying hysterically as Harry held her close and tried to calm her. She clawed at his collar, and he swiftly pulled it off, breaking the spells without effort, and flung it aside. He was not a slave, would never be a slave. He was a powerful wizard, maybe as powerful as any other ever. But he'd had enough. He would not bother with them any more, only enough to ensure that it didn't occur to anyone that he'd had anything to do with the sudden deaths. It was lucky he hadn't left the slave collar there. Someone could have connected the incident with the other, when he'd left Henry and Archer Steinway to be embarrassed.

_hphphp_

Vance McKenzie, Chief Auror, couldn't work it out. The two survivors, Malfoy and Carlyle, could not be responsible. Not only were their wands as broken as those of the rest of the victims, but it had been confirmed that they'd had their memories modified, and quite expertly. He concluded that he was looking for someone knowledgeable in the mind arts, someone quite ruthless, and, he presumed, someone with whom the Vanie Council had recently quarrelled. Maybe the surviving Vanie could help him with that, Malfoy, Carlyle and Ogden, but it was said that Ogden was dying.

Wallace Pettit was quickly informed that the head of his family was dead, and his cousin Henry was the new Head of House Pettit and the new Vanie. His informant marvelled, "Seventeen others, all Vanie! It was a meeting it seems, and eighteen Vanie families have lost their heads."

Lost their heads? What had been the wording of that odd prophecy that hadn't sounded like a prophecy? Once back in his office, he quickly found the exact words, _Threaten him with slavery, he'll chop off your heads. _ Harry Potter had recently been threatened with slavery, and Henry and Archer Steinway had been both punished and warned. So who had acted for Harry this time? Black again?

By the time he went back through the prophecies about 'sleeping dragons' and 'night coming,' he was very disturbed. Harry Potter no longer wore the Binding Bracelets, and maybe after all he had not lost his magic. Yes, he'd been the 'innocent child' wickedly used by Dumbledore, but he must not murder the leaders of the wizarding world! Threatened with slavery? If he himself was threatened with such a fate, he'd want to kill. Maybe he should just keep quiet. What if he killed again? He might be developing a taste for killing, and there were the repeated prophesied warnings. Wallace Pettit didn't know what to do, but worked at deciphering the new prophecies that came in with an increased zeal.

_Christmas comes and all is well. Let the light of wisdom frown on the night. _ByLuna Lovegood, who was more vague than ever these days. Her father had tried to find a husband for her, but she'd blandly declined all offers and still lived with her father. Girls under seventeen were sometimes forced to marry, but once of age, they could not be forced, or not legally.

_A larkin' they will go. A larkin' they will go. Hey ho the merryoh, a larkin' they will go. _Poor Pettit shook his head at that one. How was he supposed to sort the real from the false when he had to put up with this sort of nonsense?

_ A child in a kennel, hungry and cold. Alone. _

_ He knows the fist, he knows the whip. Fear. _

_ Lightness comes, a few short years, and gone. _

_ His death is the trigger, the beginning of night. _

_ The dragon's breath, fire, fear, night. _

By Frionne Carlyle. As far as he knew there was no Carlyle called Frionne, but he didn't know every offshoot of the Carlyle family. Tonius Carlyle had been spared, and Draco Malfoy, the Bad Faith scion. But Draco was Vanie now, not a mere 'scion.' Could Potter have spared him because somehow they were connected?

_The Bad Faith Scion and the Child of Light, Bonded by magic. Together they will conquer the Leymouth Lords. _By Byron, no other name given. 

_And the Child of Light will join the Brother Hunters of Darkness,_ and straight after, _The Child of Light will join the ones who sparkle like diamonds in the sunlight. Light and Dark, Day and night and day. Might and fey. _ Wallace Pettit left the office early, but arrived at his home very late, and staggering. What was one to do except get drunk?

He didn't feel very well the next day. He didn't mention to anyone his suspicions that Harry Potter might have become a mass murderer.

***chapter end***


	14. Chapter 14

_Notes for the convenience of the reader:__ The Aniragi population of Europe is divided into the Northern and Southern Alliances, usually known as the Nadlan and Sudlan. __Kreighley__: Ross Davies, manager, Paul, former 'Cupboard,' Kevin, who has Muscular Dystrophy, Staffy, (formerly 'Stinker.') _

_Dislcaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 14:**_

Sarah had been severely shaken by the experience. It was all of it, - that she'd been helpless against the wizards, that she'd seen Lee so very afraid, and that they had been responsible for so many deaths. And was it wrong not to feel sorry that they were dead? If she were Catholic, maybe she could have gone to a priest, confessed and received absolution. But surely even Catholics had to be sorry first, and she was not sorry. She had nightmares haunted by smelly little men fondling her body, and by the staring eyes of dead wizards. She was nervous, jumping at any sudden noise, and too often imagining that an attacker lurked behind her. There were the practicalities too, cancelling her credit card and organising replacement driver's license, student ID and a library card. It was difficult for her, and she was enormously thankful for Lee's quiet strength.

Her studies helped. She could lose herself in books, even dry and difficult textbooks.

Harry had no nightmares. He felt safer now than he had for years. He'd been seriously attacked, and had defeated his attackers without any difficulty at all. He was a little embarrassed now at his own quite needless panic just because there had been a collar. He'd broken the Binding Bracelets hadn't he, back when he was just fifteen? And they were powerful artefacts of Dark Magic. The slave collar was quite a simple thing, designed for Muggle youngsters, the spells just spells, probably quite easily broken by a wizard. Admittedly there were specific spells that made a slave want to obey his master, and he resolved that if ever he did find himself in that situation, to ignore how he might feel at the time, and break the collar. Even if he thought he adored his master, he was to break the collar. It was all right really. All he had to do now was to get Sarah through it, and he cut a lecture on Friday just so that he could be with her for her wedding dress fitting.

The Daily Prophet's headlines took up half the page. _'MASSACRE AT THE HOME OF ONE OF OUR MOST PROMINENT CITIZENS. HEADS OF HOUSES MURDERED.' _The Killing Curse was assumed, the Ministry _'working night and day'_ to find the culprits. And one thing important to Harry, - it said there had been no witnesses, not even house-elves, as the McLaggen house-elves had been instructed to stay right away from the prison wing. Harry was relieved to hear that. He hadn't thought about house-elves or possible human servants. Most of the wealthy families had human servants as well as house-elves. Tonius Carlyle and Draco Malfoy were shown in a picture together, both looking as arrogant as any Pure-blooded wizard could look, and neither showing the slightest embarrassment.

Narcissa read the article closely, very relieved that Draco had been spared. Harry. It had to have been Harry. Men she had known and liked were dead, - Benson, Jessem, and Artemius. Others she'd always been polite to, but had never liked. She smiled to herself. Lucius had done some terrible things, and she had always liked being close to someone so powerful, had enjoyed helping him avoid the consequences of his crimes, even when he'd been caught red-handed. Harry was powerful, far more so than Lucius had been; he excited her and she wished she could have him as a mate. He could sire very powerful children. She shook her head. He would never consider a woman of her age. The most she could hope for was to be near him sometimes.

Narcissa had no intention of telling anyone her suspicions. She had a very good idea that he'd been attacked, and wondered if he would still attend the Investiture Dinner. The Wizemgamot was supposed to have a membership of a minimum of fifty-five members, a maximum of sixty members, and now they were down by fifteen. She started working out how many of the new Vanie were not yet thirty years old, not old enough to take the family place on the Wizemgamot. Hugh, for instance, had a son, but not much older than Harry; the Steinways, - he'd certainly cut a swathe through the Steinways one way and another, there was an heir, aged maybe two or three, she thought. The Zabinis, who was the heir there? One of Benson's nephews maybe?

She continued counting down the families she'd known all her life, wondering if any had come to the end of the line. She thought that Clarence Ryan might be the last male Ryan, and probably the Parkinsons were finished as well. Maybe it was time for them to consider adding a few Houses to the list of Vanie, or maybe reinstating the Blacks. Sirius's father had been Vanie, but her sudden hope was short-lived. She loved Mary dearly, but they would never accept a House that included a Muggle-born. Harry himself? He was Pure-blood, - his grandmother had been a Squib, not a Muggle. But that was foolish. They'd never accept Harry. Even without anything else, he carried the stigma of having been a victim of rape.

When Harry came for his dancing lesson, just once weekly now, her body reacted with such excitement to his touch that she treated him more coldly than she ever had, and decided that she could not afford to dance with him any more. He was perfectly competent by this stage, and Mary was looking at her with a puzzled expression. Sirius was oblivious. Sirius was quite rapidly deteriorating.

_hphphphp_

On the 15th November, Harry was at Potter Manor, first quickly checking the newspaper headlines, then turning to his correspondence. A letter from Severus Snape, telling him that he was now father to two girls, the second of whom was born on the 7th. _'A very active and irritable baby. Trieneke says it's indicative of a highly intelligent child. All I know is that she cries day and night._' Harry grinned, and returned a letter of congratulation. Having seen the way that Severus spoke of his first daughter, he doubted that he was as displeased as he sounded. He would never be a cheery sort.

A letter from Ross Davies then, a quite full accounting of expenses as he always did, though he was in no way accountable to the Tom Foundation, and his usual summary of what his boys were up to. Kevin was deteriorating, but matter-of-fact about it, three brothers had been resident for just ten days, but were then taken in by their grandparents, along with two sisters, including a baby_. 'Parents destroyed by drugs, the usual story.'_ Ross was apt to become very loud when he spoke of the evil that drugs caused. Paul was getting on well, and had visited his siblings, though certainly not his parents. _'Their trial is not for another two months, and meantime they're out on bail, though I did hear they were hounded out of their neighbourhood. They __surely__ must serve a long prison sentence, Paul's case is the worst I've ever encountered." _ Paul himself was making rapid progress with his schooling, but was still too timid to be put in a normal class. And Staffy (Theodore) Murray was suspended from school for a week for fighting.

Harry wished again that he could become more involved with the Kreighley boys. Ross said that you could break your heart if you became too involved, but Harry reckoned that Ross was very involved. He did his best for every boy who came into his care.

A couple of invitations, one from the Creeveys. Two Muggle-borns in the one family, - he guessed that a wizard maybe lived nearby and had fancied their mother, another from Hermione for a small dinner, _'Just ourselves and a couple of school friends you know,'_ and the letter went on to say that their baby was doing very well, was bright and more beautiful every day. _'Vayden wants more children, but it's only been a month. Tracy says she's not at all sure she thinks it's worth it, she didn't feel well for the whole nine months, she said, though she's fine now.'_ Harry assumed Hermione preferred to finish her Healer training before trying for a baby herself. There was a note from Poppy as well, now that it appeared as if it was safe to be in communication with him.

He went back to read the papers more thoroughly then, including the newsletter from the remaining community at Salem. He quickly scanned the two official papers from the Northern and Southern Alliance regions, and then started to read the _Toulousaine Trabeche_, which tended to run amusing, gossipy stories. Toulousaine was near the Muggle city of Toulouse in the South of France. It was the most important Aniragia of the Southern Alliance, and contained the centre of government as well as the principal shopping area.

This weekly routine was work to Harry, as much as the studies he did for his degree. There was a very small article that spoke of a missing wizard, Mundungus Fletcher, commonly known as Dung. _'Foul Play is suspected.'_ He glanced at the clock and reluctantly got to his feet. It was time to get ready for the Investiture Dinner.

He sighed as he pulled out the elaborate robes that Sirius had given him for his eighteenth birthday. Underneath he was heavily armed. The small Beretta plus a much bigger machine pistol, as well as his two knives. He wasn't expecting anything, but just in case. He had killed eighteen wizards, after all. What if there had been a witness he hadn't spotted? What if the Auror Department knew about fingerprint evidence, even DNA evidence which would place him at the scene of the crime? The best course of action was to appear at the function and act as if he knew nothing at all about a ring of dead bodies and broken wands. There had been no mention of the wands being broken in any of the newspaper articles, so perhaps they were keeping that quiet.

He regarded himself in the mirror and shook his head. Just weeks before he'd been dressed as a slave, and now he looked the epitome of a distinguished Pure-blood wizard. All he had to do was to put on an expression of disdain, and he practised it. He shivered. He looked just like the ring of Vanie, busily planning on what Carlyle had described as a 'sordid public rape.' He thought again what he'd thought before, that maybe wizards should simply not exist. But wizards were just Muggles with wands. What if he deprived them of wands as the American Muggles had done? The Salem community seemed to be recovering now, but they'd certainly suffered a very severe check, and most of them had moved to Utah, maybe in the theory that they'd be less noticeable in a place notorious for unusual communities. He thought it unlikely that any of them would ever again speak openly about being witches.

As usual he apparated close to the Black place, and walked there, very cautiously. Wherever he went afterwards, he met his bodyguard at the Black place. No-one could know he could apparate by himself, without effort and silently.

An hour later, he sat and paid attention. He had to pay attention. It was survival, but it was a battle when his mind kept wandering. It really was excruciatingly boring. The next wizard walked up to make his vows, and the officiator intoned, "Tonius Carlyle, Head of the most ancient and noble House of Carlyle, son of Reginald Carlyle, grandson of Darturis Carlyle, great grandson of Tonfret Carlyle. I hereby ask you to take the vow of loyalty to the Wizemgamot."

Tonius Carlyle inclined his head very slightly, and repeated the vow in solemn tones. Harry had already heard it seven times. He was trying to remember how many members of the Wizemgamot had died at the time of Cerlickh. Five, and one brain damaged, he thought. Six Death Eaters, and possibly others who'd survived undetected. It was obvious that there was no binding magic in the vows.

The first woman then, and Harry narrowed his eyes. Dolores Umbridge. He loathed the squat woman, and wondered what influence had been brought to bear to get her appointed to this position.

There was a Mixed-blood then, and Harry heard the hiss of disapproval from Narcissa among others. "Gerard Frame, son of Henry Frame, and married to Sharlin Frame, nee Steinway, daughter of James Steinway of the most ancient and noble House of Steinway, grand-daughter of Antonius Steinway." It was the first time the wife had even been mentioned, and Harry concluded that perhaps it was to make the man seem more acceptable. Gerard Frame haughtily ignored the audible discontent of the critical audience and made his vow.

Two more Mixed-bloods then, women, and Narcissa whispered, "It's Minister Bones' doing, I think. She'll get herself killed!" There had already been two attempts on Amelia Bones' life, and she was rumoured to bear a nasty curse scar on her back.

One of the Vanie replacements was the last, "Ledlie Vanden, Head of the most noble and ancient House of Vanden, son of Garrick Vanden, grandson of Callum Vanden and great grandson of Hector Vanden. I hereby ask you to take the vow of loyalty to the Wizemgamot."

It was done, and Harry reminded himself that he was absolutely not allowed to yawn, and only gave a polite smile when Sirius beside him moaned that he was _so hungry!_ They'd all been seated before the formalities had begun, with only a small glass of wine to help pass the time.

The woman in charge of the organisation was looking anxious, but she'd only done what was always done. She should have thought, - seventeen investitures, with all the essential formalities, - it took time. Usually it was only one or two investitures at a time. Eighteen killed, and aside from a few younger ones, they'd all been members of the Wizemgamot. She sighed, wondering what the world was coming to. Eighteen of the most respected men of their world, and all killed. The favourite theory was that a new Dark Lord was rising. Well, they could hardly look for Harry Potter to save them now. He'd lost his magic.

A tiny but very fancy dish was being served for starters, some rare sea creature, sacrificed to satisfy the appetites of wizards. Two bites and it was gone, and the salad next to it had such exotic flavouring that it was all but inedible to those accustomed to more ordinary meals.

They were seated at long tables, and could only politely speak to those close, preferably not even across the table. Pure-blood etiquette, long lists of rules for polite conduct, their primary reason for being, to exclude those not brought up to it. Narcissa and Sirius, Harry, and beside him sat the first wife of Ludo Bagman, then Bagman, then Lavender Brown now Bagman, his second wife. Both Ludo's wives were very quiet, even Lavender who'd been lively and full of gossip when Harry had known her at Hogwarts.

Across from them sat two men whom Harry didn't know, but the crests on the formal robes were that of Bowen. He knew most of the crests now. Then next to them, and looking at Harry with a too-obvious curiosity was the new Zabini Head of House, Miles Zabini. Miles had been invested as one of the new members of the Wizemgamot, a nephew of old Benson, Harry thought. Strange to see all of those new members of the Wizemgamot, and know that most of them had been appointed to the family position because he'd killed their fathers, or uncle in the case of Miles Zabini. He remembered feeling sick and depressed for weeks after he'd killed Cornelius Fudge, but now he felt nothing like that. What they had attempted had been unforgivable, and now they were dead. They'd brought it on themselves.

Narcissa glanced at him and thought she'd have nothing to criticise that evening. Harry was behaving impeccably, exchanging polite pleasantries with his neighbours, and showing none of the contempt, even hatred, she was sure he felt for many of those around him.

It was Sirius who was not behaving at all well, grumbling about the food, the meagre quantities, the length between courses, and the flavours he liked as little as Harry liked them. Narcissa was worried. He needed more of the powdered potions she always dosed him with, but each time she had the opportunity to dose his food, he decided he didn't like it, and would push it away from him. He was becoming noisier, and demanding that the waiter refill his glass at twice the rate of anyone else.

Quite suddenly, he pointed, and slurring his words slightly, said, "You, Zabini. It should've been me, you know. I should be Van Sirius Black, and I should be on the Wizzmg'mot. Just 'coz blasted Hat put me in Gryffindor, fam'ly didn' like me any more. Had to go to the Potters, y'know. They were good, good to me."

Narcissa said hurriedly, "Yes, Sirius, you've told us. The Potters were very good to you. Glass of water?"

Sirius looked at the proffered glass, bemused, and then took it from her, taking a few sips. He was more subdued for a bit then, and Narcissa drew a quiet breath of relief. If she'd known the dinner would be drawn out so long, she would have found some excuse for not going, only that Harry needed them. It was more vital than ever now that he be accepted in society. She must not allow him to be so disenchanted with them that he became an active enemy. She looked at him now, and noticed that not only Zabini kept looking at him, but the Bowen cousins were whispering to each other, their eyes on him. She noticed Harry's eyes scanning over them once, his face a mask of polite indifference.

Sirius sneered at them, "Think you're so super'or, you blasted Bowens, don' you? The Blacks spat on your anchestors, they did! An' Harry's. The Potters were among the firs' Vanie, d'you know that? How dare you look at him like that! I should duel you, I should," and he stood up, knocking over his wine, and leaned aggressively over the table towards the Bowen cousins, making more mess.

A waiter hurried over, "Please Mr. Black..." and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who'd been standing behind Harry all this time, guarding his back, put a restraining hand on his shoulder. Sirius flung it off, stood up straight, and proclaimed, "Harry Potter, son of James Potter, son of Gerion Potter, son of ..." a pause and then, "I forget. But also grandson of Albus Dumbledore, grandson of Sisal Wikan, sister of Van Eric Wikan of Norway. Pure-blood, he is, and always was. Order of Merlin, First Class. _He _should be Vanie. _He_ should be Wizh... Wizh'g'mot!"

Narcissa said sternly, "Sirius, that is enough."

Sirius shook off her restraining arm, and Harry took action. There was no indication that he was doing magic, but Sirius abruptly calmed and sat down. Two Aurors who'd been rapidly approaching, slowed and looked to the Senior Auror for instructions. Robards shook his head slightly, and they took up position against the wall instead, quite close to Kingsley. Narcissa gave a glance at Harry, heavily dosed the next dish, and firmly told Sirius to eat it. Sirius gave her a look almost scared, and did as he was told. She was sure that Harry had seen, but he said nothing.

Narcissa was very relieved to see Harry apparate safely away with Kingsley and to get her husband home without any further problems. There would be no more big functions for Sirius.

She had a serious talk with Mary the following day, "I'm losing control. Last night I put limiting spells on his wand, but if you want another baby, Mary, you can't afford to wait any longer."

"You're sure that my baby is not likely to be cursed like that?"

"I've never heard of it among Mixed Blood families."

"I've been taking more notice, and it's only the Pure-bloods seem to be lacking in old men." She nodded, "I'll go to him tonight."

"He knows there's something wrong. He's scared."

"It's going to be difficult, isn't it?"

"The Healer will do it if we can't, but it's best we do it. Easier for him, a wife's duty."

Mary shook her head, "I wouldn't have known what to do."

"It's part of the reason I wanted to marry him. He's my cousin, my childhood friend, and I don't want him hurt. It would hurt him dreadfully to know..."

She wasn't surprised to find Harry visiting early the next day, when Sirius was still sound asleep. She expected him to be suspicious of her motives, even to wonder if she could be poisoning him. She thought it advisable to be totally frank. He was a Pure-blood wizard himself, but it never seemed to occur to him that Sirius's malady could ever be his malady. She'd never heard of it in the Potters, but that didn't mean they were not susceptible.

At the last, Harry asked directly, "So, how long do you think he has?"

"Less than the year, probably less than six months. But if I lose control, it could be soon."

Harry looked directly at her, "It's an illness, not something you've inflicted?"

Narcissa flinched back as he bored into her mind, demolishing her shields. He made no indication of what he'd learned, but she felt shattered. He took her hand, kissed it with his usual respect, and took his leave. After a time, she went to Sirius. She felt as if she'd been ravished, and it had left her with an excitement in her body. For a change she didn't mind the smell of stale sweat on Sirius, or his sour morning breath, but set to work to excite him.

At his home, Harry considered this new information. Sirius was going to die, Narcissa was going to put him down. Narcissa knew he had magic, and it excited her. She desired him, but had no intention of acting upon it. Mordred's Curse. He sighed. Wizards should not breed. Maybe he should sterilise the whole breed of wizards. They did no good for themselves, and certainly no good for anyone else. It was only an idle thought. He had no serious intention of attacking anyone. Except for the warts. Those bloody Bowen cousins deserved a few disfiguring warts for what they'd been thinking. He sent Narcissa a gift by way of apology, though the note said, 'For all your help these last months.' It was a small thing, but expensive. He thought it must be awful to feel someone else in your head, and he knew that she had felt him probing. He wouldn't do that again, not with Narcissa anyway.

The love-making was over, and Narcissa lay with her head on Sirius's shoulder, dozing. He touched her very gently on the temple before taking his wand and casting a gentle cleaning spell over both of them. His father had gone mad, and his mother as well, though only when she was much older. His cousin Bellatrix had always been erratic, and he'd seen an uncle once, raving at a dinner until his wife had taken him home. He'd died soon after. It was his turn now, he guessed, but maybe not for a little while yet. His sons were not even one year old. They were walking now, and James was beginning to run, eager to get into mischief. It had been Mary who'd gone over the house very thoroughly, trying to rid it of anything that could harm them, excluding them from access to some rooms with simple wards.

Once Narcissa woke from her doze, he told her, "You don't need to hide when you put things in my food, you know 'Cissa. I will take what you give me."

Narcissa stared at him, tears in her eyes, "Sirius..."

He kissed her, "I know, my love. Just look after Mary and the boys. Harry as well. He's also my boy."

"There is time left. Last night... It was their fault, it was managed very badly."

"I did the best thing marrying you. I wanted Mary, but you... I knew you could cope with anything."

Narcissa looked at him very seriously, "I will cope. I will do the absolute best I can for you."

"I know you will." He grinned at her, a sudden glint in his eye, "Want to go again?"

Narcissa laughed, and agreed.

Mary was becoming a little worried, but when she came to the door, she could hear them, and smiled to herself. She'd go to him tonight. She wanted a daughter, and this time, there was no way she'd be taking potions, no matter how 'harmless' they were supposed to be.

***chapter end***


	15. Chapter 15

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Kreighley Beach Boys' Home: Ross Davies, manager, Ray and Lionel, grounds-keepers, Kevin Stern, who has Muscular Dystrophy. Paul, former 'Cupboard Kid.' * 'Vanie' are the 'Nobility' of Wizardkind. * Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 15: **_

Daniel and Jason were showing off their new suits to Harry. Daniel was to be Best Man, and told him, "Mum says it's up to me to stop you running away at the last minute."

Harry laughed, "I won't run away."

His other life seemed so far away here, when he was among his family. Sarah had put it away from herself as well, and no longer suggested that she should meet his godfather or anyone else from that life. Harry had seen them again two days before, when he'd accompanied Sirius to the funeral of Remus Lupin. Remus had done well for a werewolf, but it was inevitable that the strain of transformation would one day kill him. The funeral had been held at a Muggle cemetery near his small home. Tonks had not been permitted to have him buried with other wizards. He'd been a were-wolf. Harry admitted that he'd been a kind and good man, but he'd never liked that look of disappointment he wore when he regarded the son of his best friend. Harry didn't really know what he'd expected of him, given the circumstances, but whatever it was, he didn't live his life to suit anyone else.

Vera said, "Sixty-nine guests, it appears, though Chris and Ian are uncertain."

Harry nodded, Chris and Ian were the only friends he'd invited. Being deep-sea fishermen, their availability depended on their boat's schedule and the weather. It was a reason to hope for storms, as the boats seldom went out in very bad weather. Sarah had only invited Aimee, and the rest of the guests were to be relatives of the Chases and the Lassiters. There were four grandfathers invited, and two great grandfathers, something which pleased Harry very much now that he knew about this Mordred's Curse among wizards. There were also four grandmothers, and a great grandmother. It appeared that both the Chases and Lassiters came from long-lived stock. Not all were coming, but Sarah's maternal grandparents were, and Vera's mother and father. Such a big family. So different from himself, no grandparents alive, and only Aunt Petunia and Dudley as blood relatives, neither of them any sort of asset. He didn't plan on ever seeing them again.

Vera said, "Gayle is to act as hostess. Tremaine suggested that Aimee did it, but she refused." It appeared that if Gayle held any residual bitterness toward Tremaine for the divorce, she was willing to put it aside for her only daughter. They were to be married from the Lassiters' place in Kent, rather than creating a stir in Traynor. There were few secrets that remained secrets for long in a town of less than 4000 population.

Dan asked, "What do I have to do again? I've never been Best Man before."

Harry said, _"I've_ never been to a wedding. I have no idea."

Vera laughed, "Don't worry. We'll make sure you know what to do."

_hphphphp_

Hermione crooned to little Reginald in her lap, "Your first Christmas, little man."

Tracy observed, "Schapelle sneered at the idea of celebrating Christmas like a common Muggle, but I told her that most of the Christmas customs are adopted from Aniragi customs."

"Did she believe that?"

"Can you see Schapelle doing any research to prove or disprove it?"

Hermione grinned, "It comes in handy sometimes, having a reputation as a brain!"

Hermione was very happy in her family. She'd not been to see her parents since they'd been made to forget her, and didn't know that they'd been quite severely damaged. They were no longer dentists, and were struggling to cope with ordinary life. Their family had accepted the most likely explanation for the apparent brain damage, that they'd poisoned themselves with medical chemicals, that maybe they'd been abusing them for years. They were in church now, sitting with Dan Granger's sister and her husband, who were hosting them for a few days. Dan looked like he was about to go to sleep, while Emma stared blankly at the stained glass windows.

Vera Chase and her family were also attending a Christmas service. She was a little sad. She loved Lee as her son, but she was already losing him to a wife. It scarcely seemed fair, even though she knew how well suited the pair was. 'Nearly a cupboard kid' she remembered. If only she could have had him then. She'd become friendly with Helen Davies, and they shared the stories of the Kreighley boys. Maybe she and James would adopt more boys, only this time they should be younger. Lee had been sixteen, already in his last year at school. Maybe if she looked at the eleven-year-olds, perhaps in a few years. She didn't want Dan and Jason to be jealous.

Harry fidgeted in his seat, thinking of Sarah. He was very relieved that she'd recovered from her distress at the incident with the Vanie Council. He was even more relieved when she'd been adamant that she still wanted to marry him, even when she knew that being close to him could lead her into danger. He'd once thought that he'd never marry, that he might be incapable of feeling so deeply for anyone, but Sarah was like a part of himself. It was impossible to imagine life without her now. He had to drop in to see Sirius and his family in the afternoon. He wouldn't stay long, but it was probably Sirius's last Christmas, and he should make the effort.

It was Christmas dinner at Kreighley, midday. Ross Davies smiled as he saw several of his boys lining up for a second serve of plum pudding. Food-wise, they were seldom indulged, but this was Christmas. There were lollies on the table, and soft drink, even crackers, though not a one had put on the party hat. Uncool, he presumed. There was a Christmas tree sparkling with lights, and the dining hall was warm, though it was cold and blustery outside, and one could hear waves crashing against the cliffs. The forecast was for storms.

There was a new boy, arrived just three days before. He was called Travis, very stout, but with a somewhat pale face. Paul was sitting next to him, talking cheerfully, Warren Stern on his other side. The healthy Stern brothers no longer seemed to feel it necessary to be with Kevin all the time. Ross was a little relieved the new boy was not sitting alone. Boys like Travis tended to be at the bottom of the pecking order, without friends. He might not be very bright either, as his school records were poor, though that might only be because he'd had too many days off, 'sick,' although he didn't have any medical problems on record.

Kevin was with Aaron Bates and Staffy Murray, who didn't seem to care in the slightest that he'd been nearly expelled from school. Kevin wasn't eating much, but seemed cheerful. There had been several expensive gifts arrive for the Stern boys, from relatives who said that the three boys were better off with each other than divided among themselves. They were probably right in this case, though Ross knew of many homes that didn't make their inmates at all happy.

Several of his boys were away, like Stephen Seabrook, who was visiting his grandparents, and Tim and Mike, who'd been invited to spend Christmas with an aunt of Tim's. Paul had recently had his second visit to his siblings, but when asked if he wished to stay with relatives as well, he'd shaken his head violently, and hadn't said a word for the next three hours. Ross assumed that Paul would be a long-term resident. He'd been too damaged to easily trust.

The chatter was loud and cheerful. Helen, sitting beside him, asked, "Another dessert, my dear? Before your boys eat it all?"

Ross laughed and agreed. It was the season for over-indulging.

Some hours later, a drenched Lionel banged at his door with a plea for help. It seemed that several of his boys had had their own private celebration at 'Pirate's Cove,' but now the tide was coming in, and they were too drunk to get to safety. Lionel was almost in tears, "Kevin, and he can't walk at all, and Ryan and Peter and Jimmy... Eight, and Jimmy's passed out... I'm sorry, Boss."

Ross didn't waste time with recriminations, "Get all the bigger boys still here to come and help, Ray of course, anyone else available, and don't waste time." Ray was the grounds keeper, Lionel his assistant. Ross cast a worried look at the sky. Night came early in Winter.

"Yes, Boss," and Lionel swept the tears from his face, and raced to do his bidding.

A few of the more senior boys had luckily not been involved, and Nick and Ethan helped haul the younger ones back up the cliff, while Ross and Ray struggled with the weight of Kevin, though Jimmy had been bullied back to consciousness and was managing by himself. Luckily Kevin was thin, but with the overdose of alcohol, he was a dead weight, also shivering and very cold. They found his wheelchair tucked out of sight at the top of the cliff, presumably so no-one would guess what they were doing.

The rain was pouring down when they finally assembled at the top of the cliff, and Ross barked at the miserable sick boys, "Hot showers, _long_ hot showers, and dry clothes. We don't want you coming down with pneumonia," and he looked at Kevin, drooping in his chair, shuddering violently with cold, and decided to call the doctor as a precaution.

When Dr. Tan arrived, Ross had Kevin in the large tub filled with hot water. The room heating was full on. Warren Stern hadn't been one of the ones at the beach, but Larry had been, and was now passed out in bed. Kevin had his eyes closed, feeling too ill to be worried about being naked in the presence of others. He'd been so cold, like he'd never be warm again. Ross was very worried.

The doctor was curt with them when he checked, said that Kevin appeared to be all right, but that he should be called again if they thought it necessary. Warren spoke up, "He said he wanted to get drunk this Christmas because it might be the last one he had."

Ross said grimly, "I'm angry enough now that it may very well be his last Christmas, and the last Christmas for every one of those involved!"

Kevin gave a wry smile at this. He felt much better, and he never had reacted well to pity.

Ross rejoined his wife, who was preparing a light evening meal. He'd make another check in a couple of hours.

He did make another check, not just Kevin, but all of them. Of all of 'the drunks,' only Ryan had made it to the evening meal, though he was still looking rather pale, and looked at Ross with considerable apprehension. Ross had already decided on a suitable punishment for seven of them, but he'd have to think of something different for Kevin, an office job, or maybe polishing cutlery, something of that nature.

A few hours later there was more urgent knocking on the door, interspersed with the shrill tone of the doorbell pressed again and again. Ross groaned and got to his feet. _Stupid _boys! Why on earth did he do this job? But it wasn't any of the boys who'd been at the beach. Instead it was young Lincoln who'd become concerned about Travis, his room-mate. He was 'breathing funny,' and wouldn't wake up. Ross was sufficiently concerned when he inspected him that he called an ambulance straight away, and then quietly checked in the Stern brothers' rooms again. Kevin seemed fine, but there was a pool of vomit next to Larry's bed. Ross left it. Larry could clean it up himself as part of his punishment for utter irresponsibility.

It was hours later that Ross finally crawled into bed. Helen asked, "Is he all right?"

"Diabetic coma, but he'll pull through. It's lucky it was noticed in time."

"Kevin? The other drunks?"

"All alive."

Helen said sleepily, "Happy Christmas, my love."

Ross laughed, "Yeah!"

_hphphphp_

The 28th December, and Vera had tears in her eyes when she saw the way her Lee looked at his bride as she slowly walked down the aisle toward him, arm in arm with her father. Behind her walked Aimee, but Aimee had worked not to overshadow the bride, and Sarah looked radiant in her happiness. Dan seemed comfortable in his role as Best Man, made quite a creditable speech at the reception, and Jason took what seemed like hundreds of pictures, even though Sarah's mother had insisted on a professional photographer.

Finally alone, Harry kissed his bride, and told her how lovely she'd looked. Sarah grinned and admitted, "It was a relief to get out of that blessed corset, and even though I've been practising, I hated the heels!"

"Why did you wear them then?"

"Aimee said I needed more height, that taller is more graceful. And she took not the slightest notice of me when I pointed out that twisting an ankle while walking to meet the bridegroom is not graceful."

"You didn't look worried at all."

"I forgot all that, just that I was coming to you."

Harry kissed her, and asked, "Shall we consummate the wedding?"

"If you please, Mr. Chase."

"I please, Ms. Lassiter."

Sarah had chosen not to change her name, mostly because the custom implied that the woman was inferior to the husband, like a possession, but also that she was rather attached to her _own_ name. Harry didn't mind. On occasion it might be more convenient for a husband and wife to have the same surname, on the other hand, as Sarah pointed out, changing her name on passports, driver's license, bank accounts and everything else would have been a tedious nightmare.

Vera Chase said sadly to her husband, "He's married, and I never did really get to know him."

"He was only with us for a few months before he started University. I guess it's not surprising."

"He trusts us, I know he does. I don't know why he still keeps things secret from us."

"We told him at the very start that we wouldn't expect him to tell us things he doesn't want to."

"Do you think he's told Sarah?"

"I expect so. I have a feeling she could be a formidable woman if she wasn't so sweet-natured."

"There was an old cat who said that she shouldn't be in white because they'd been living together. I wanted to spit at her, but instead I told her very definitely that it didn't matter in the slightest. That they were taking solemn vows of commitment, and whether they'd lived together three months or thirty years, it was still a significant occasion, and whether or not the bride wears white is quite irrelevant."

"Was that Auntie Viv? I must check some records. I have the feeling that _her_ first child came rather early after the wedding."

_hphphphp_

New Year's Parties all over the world were special that year, - the beginning of the new millennium. There was talk of likely computer problems, with theories that aeroplanes might come crashing down from the sky, paycheques might not be issued, even that microwaves might blow up. Harry and Sarah took little notice of the rumours, especially those more far-fetched, though Harry did have a stuffed toy sitting on his computer 'for good luck.' It was bright blue, bug-eyed, and with large black teeth, a 'Millennium Bug.' Not that he'd looked at his computer since the wedding. He hadn't done anything in the way of work for the past week, and would have to work hard on a particular university assignment once back. There was only one outstanding, but that was a difficult one. He'd ask Sarah to help him with it when they were home. He thought of Hermione, who'd always been eager to help him with his homework. He'd appreciated it that first year at Hogwarts, though less than she thought in subsequent years.

He was so very, very happy to be married to Sarah. He felt as if she was home... that wherever she was, it was home. She was warmth and comfort and loving. He'd never thought that life and love could be quite so good.

Celebrating at Kreighley was a quiet affair. Not only were several boys in disgrace for their escapade on Christmas afternoon, but the new boy was still in hospital, his newly diagnosed Diabetes wildly out of control. Type 1, they were told, and Ross passed on to his boys that anyone who even _hinted_ that it was the boy's own fault for being fat would be on sand-sweeping duties for months if not years, and that it was very likely that his weight had been a _consequence_ of his illness, rather than a cause, though that last part was his own theory, not the opinion of the doctor.

In the Carlyle household, things were a little strained. Hermione's mother-in-law was most to blame, with her disparaging remarks that the younger ones were being childish wanting to hold a New Year's Eve party, that it was only a Muggle New Year, that Anirage regarded _Walpurgis_ as the beginning of the new year, and that it was such a shame that the old traditions were not revered as they should be. "Christmas as well," she said. "It just has no meaning except for superstitious Muggles, yet it's celebrated as if it was ours."

Linley explained, "Walpurgis, Hermione. The evening before the 1st of May."

Hermione smiled at him politely. She knew what Walpurgis was, and was never quite sure whether such explanatory remarks were to help her, or to remind her of her inferiority of blood. She'd almost begun to believe herself that she was inferior with the constant reminders, and yet there was seldom anything to point to. If they were trying to be rude, they were very subtle about it.

Tonius observed, "I believe it was only after Dumbledore came to power at Hogwarts that the school year was changed to reflect that of the Muggles. And now it's permeated everywhere."

Tracey smiled, "I used to love the Christmas decorations at Hogwarts, enormous trees which Hagrid dragged in, Flitwick charming the lights to decorate it, and who doesn't like presents?"

Hermione said, remembering, "When I was a child, I would wake to find a pile of presents at the foot of my bed, so I always tried to wake very early on Christmas Day. And there'd be Christmas dinner, usually at Nan's place, and all the family would be there..." She looked away, for a moment feeling very sad. She had lost her old family, never see them again.

Linley said casually, "You're really being very intolerant, Mother. I have an enormous bag of fireworks, but if you don't want to see the show, you have only to go to bed and put up a Silencing Charm."

Hermione was pleased with him at that. Linley was a decent man, and Tonius was friendly, and appeared to respect her opinions. She had never been so well informed about affairs, and she had some very good discussions with the powerful man sometimes.

She still didn't know how little true regard Tonius paid to the opinions of herself and Tracey. There was talk among the Vanie that if women didn't have the vote, some of the more irritating laws could be repealed. Wizards who lived in the Nadlan did very much as they pleased, just as long as secrecy was preserved in front of Muggles. It was a much younger Council of Vanie now, and they were fretting to use their power.

Midnight crept across the globe, and by the time that it was midnight in Britain, the Muggle authorities were confident that there were not going to be serious problems due to computers' time clocks ticking over to the year 2000, and a few religious fanatics had almost ceased waiting expectantly for the Second Coming of the Lord. Linley and Vayden Carlyle went about setting off their spectacular fireworks, purchased from Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and the women watched, including Julia, who had no intention of missing this. After all, Walpurgis was quite a small celebration these days, and then only in Pure-blood circles.

Fred and George Weasley had made enormous profits that year. The profits from the fireworks alone were enough for them to talk about more slaves. They liked slaves. It was so appealing to have beautiful youngsters waiting on them, doting on them, wanting nothing more than to please them in whatever manner they desired. It was just a shame they had to keep them so secret. Xenophilius Lovegood had made the mistake of sharing his slave with a friend, and now Lovegood was in the new prison at Albuston. The slave was also at Albuston, held in the 'Freedom Centre' with fifteen other ex-slaves, no longer used for sex, but there was no intention of ever freeing them.

The Weasley twins didn't consider themselves criminals, but they would be quite pleased if Amelia Bones lost her position as Minister. There were those persistent rumours that she might not last long, but the nearly successful attack at Christmas had not been publicised. All that was known was that two Aurors, Jeremy Huntington and Oliver Pearson, had been killed. They were Aurors who'd often been used to guard Harry Potter, and Amelia had trusted them more than some others. Kingsley was still alive, and the attacker now in Azkaban, still a fearsome place, even without Dementors.

And so began the Year 2000, the year of the New Millennium.

***chapter end***


	16. Chapter 16

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Nick and Malcolm are both Kreighley boys who'd been ill-treated while in Juvenile Detention. Ian, Chris and Vincent were all Kreighley boys. * __Disclaimer and acknowledgements__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. *The 'Two hawks flying' prophecy is from Snapegirlkmf, used in her story 'Broken Wings.' The 'Field of battle' prophecy is by Loralee1 in '__Time to Live.__' _

_**Chapter 16: **_

It was May. Harry ducked his head against a flurry of rain as he made his way to the entrance of Falmouth Hospital. There were severe storms at sea, storms that had blown up almost without warning. Of the fishing fleet, only one aged skipper had paid attention to the uneasy feeling in his gut, and declined to take his boat out. The rest of the fleet found themselves struggling home through wicked seas, torrential rain, and wild winds. One boat was still missing, but the _Lady Bay_ was home safe. Both Chris and Ian worked on the Lady Bay, and Ian had suffered a broken leg from an accident with the rigging. He'd also been thoroughly chilled, as the rest of the crew had been too busy keeping the boat afloat to have time to keep him warm. He had pneumonia, but was over the worst.

Ian turned to Harry in relief when he arrived. His voice was raspy, "I'm bored to tears here, Lee. Please. Entertain me."

Harry chuckled and sat down beside him. "I guess I'll have to do all the talking by the sound of your voice."

Ian grinned and nodded. He had no family who cared about him, and though there were friends, few were willing to go out in the gale conditions that prevailed.

Harry said, "Well, we're studying hard, of course, Sarah and I. And we bumped into Vince the other day. He says he's doing fine, and is with a bloke called Michael Kennedy now. He visits his Mum sometimes, though he says that his father can't stand to look at him." Vince was unashamedly gay, and had wound up at Kreighley when his father had thrown him out of his home.

Ian rasped, "Jimmy?"

"I don't know. But did you hear that Nick and Malcolm won their case against two of those cruel bastards at the Detention Centre?"

Ian grinned, and Harry gave him the details. Ian commented, "Only five years? I thought it would be more for raping boys."

"They only charged them with assault. If they were raped, they never told me."

"Probably wouldn't have wanted to admit it. I'm sure I knew a couple boys who were targets for that when I was in, but I bet they never told anyone."

Harry nodded, knowing it was likely true. He'd been raped, and he would have felt far more shamed if he hadn't killed the bastard. Ian added casually, "Not that anyone should be ashamed, except the one who did it. It's never the boy's fault."

"It doesn't stop people looking down on you if they know."

"None of us would. _I_ wouldn't."

"You're a good bloke, Ian."

Ian laughed, "I look like a gorilla, so it never happened to me. Even when I was twelve, I was big, and by the time I was fourteen, quite hairy. Much better than being small and delicate looking."

Harry said indignantly, "I'm not small and delicate-looking!"

"Your head scarcely reaches my shoulder!"

"I'm nearly five foot nine, perfectly average height!"

Ian chuckled, "Yes, Lee," and asked about Mikey.

Harry was able to answer. He never went to Kreighley, but Ross kept him well informed, as Ian knew. Ian had only lived at Kreighley for a year or so, but had found it a more peaceful home than any he'd known previously. For Harry, it had become very much a home.

Harry sat with Ian a long time, even after Ian became tired and drifted off to sleep. It was when you were sick that you missed having a family most. Harry knew.

Ian woke after a while, and looked over to where his friend was engrossed in a book. There was a writing pad on the little table next to his bed, and as he watched, Lee scribbled a note in it, obviously copying something from the book. He started to say something, but was seized by a fit of coughing instead.

Harry wished he could help, but didn't dare intervene. Poppy had told him that spells could go badly wrong if used on a Muggle. There were some, he knew, but they were not used to benefit the victim. He handed over some iced water when the spasm seemed to be over, and then a nurse bustled in with a couple of pills for him to take. Ian made a face over them, and Harry laughed to himself. He should try taking a dose of _Skele-gro!_

Chris turned up then, and Harry picked up his books to leave. Ian said hoarsely, "Thanks for coming, Lee."

"I'll see you tomorrow. And when you leave hospital you can stay with us."

"I might need it. Bob over there says they toss you out as soon as you can hobble around these days, something about hospitals being full of germs."

"So there'll be a time when you still need looking after a bit, until you're really well. We'll keep you fed and watered, maybe even hire a few videos to keep you entertained. "

Bob was in the opposite bed, and raised his voice. "Blue movies. Order him some blue movies. He says his girlfriend's moved on."

Both Chris and Harry turned to Ian, and Ian admitted, "A few weeks ago. She saw me with someone else."

"The someone else?"

"Turned out she's married."

_hphphphp_

At the Ministry of Magic, Vance McKenzie had finally made an hour for Wallace Pettit to talk to him. The man had been making a nuisance of himself for weeks, but McKenzie had never been a believer in prophecies. It was his belief that the 'Sacrifice' prophecy had come true only because things had been arranged that it had _had_ to come true. He still found it hard to comprehend that Dumbledore had deliberately made an innocent child helpless, - and then handed him over to Voldemort. Not just that it went against all ethics, but that it could so easily have gone the other way.

But Pettit laid out two recent prophecies that appeared to have been fulfilled, '_An hour they lie helpless, An hour to regret their plight. An hour to count their crimes, An hour to feel the strike. Take the warning, Heed the warning, For next time, it is night.' _Pettit said, "ByAurora Vane. And soon after, Henry and Archer Steinway were stretched out on the floor, tied so they couldn't move. They were given a warning, and feeling the pain they did, I am certain that they would have regretted their actions, _count their crimes_."

McKenzie nodded. He felt sure they'd regretted it, not knowing whether they were still fully men.

"And this, also from Aurora Vane. _Threaten him with slavery, he'll chop off your heads. _ And shortly after, eighteen of our most important families lost their heads."

"So this Aurora Vane, you're saying she's a true Seer?"

"It appears so, and there are others. There's a continuing theme, there must be no more slavery, and Muggles must not be ill-treated, or Night will come, which I interpret as the extinction of Anirage."

"A little melodramatic, surely!"

"Think of it. We are so few, vulnerable. Wizards are dying, and so few babies born. If just one powerful wizard starts making real trouble... There have been so many prophecies talking about sleeping dragons, the 'One Who Hides,' and Night coming, and I think..."

McKenzie raised his eyebrows. "Haven't there also been warnings about a Childless One? And all those about animals, especially birds."

Pettit quoted: _"The shadow of the Dark One shall rise to cover the land... but the shadow shall be vanquished... by sacrifice and truth and two hawks flying. Together they shall find what is hidden and teach death to die. _Maybe _'what is hidden'_ is the same as the '_One who hides,_' and we know that Harry Potter hides. Maybe he is the Dark One who threatens us now, the '_sleeping dragon_,' but at least that particular prophecy says that he's to be vanquished."

McKenzie stared at him incredulously, and then laughed, "I can't see poor Harry as a powerful _Dark One! _ I'm quite sure he has no magic. He was seen to take a beating from Muggle schoolboys once, and he certainly used no magic then, even though he could not have known he was being watched. And when he was attacked in Diagon Alley, he defended himself with a knife, not a wand. I do have my suspect for the Vanie massacre, and it is not a crippled kid not yet twenty."

Pettit said seriously, "Arthur Weasley died recently. Also remember that Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour also died, all ones who'd threatened him. Remus Lupin, who was apt to say how upset he was that the Potter heir shirked his duty by not marrying a decent Pure-blood girl. That would have annoyed him. Dolores Umbridge. She was in charge of him for a time when he was confined in Hogwarts, and you know what she was like. Blake Brooks, a known enemy, and Cormac McLaggen, another known enemy. I think Harry Potter is a very powerful wizard, and with no compunction about using it to kill his enemies."

"Blake Brooks was killed in Nocturne Alley. His money bag was missing, and McLaggen was killed playing Quidditch. There were hundreds of witnesses."

"Such accidents can be arranged."

"Harry." McKenzie thought about it and finally shook his head. "I don't believe it. He's just not a killer. Maybe it was the one referred to as _the Childless One?"_

Pettit acknowledged, "It could be. I have no clue who that refers to."

"You have no evidence that Harry is to blame for any of them, only the _Hour they lie helpless_ rhyme."

Pettit sighed, "There are so many warnings of Night coming, and the dragon waking. There was a whole spate of them just prior to Walpurgis, and by reputable Seers. We have to do something, or Wizardkind will be no more. There is one that specifically says that by the end of this new century, our civilisation will have collapsed. Listen to this one for instance," and without need to check his notes, he recited_, "On the field of battle, light and dark clash, A blow most foul downs light champion, Light's hope fade as dark takes its toll, Winged victory in his grasp, Dark takes the day."_

McKenzie commented lightly, "I heard that one. My son said it was about a Quidditch match. Dark won."

"Prophecies are not made about Quidditch matches! And there are so many others, _Creeping silent death_, for instance, another that speaks of imbalance toppling our world, and always those ones that say that _Night comes_."

McKenzie frowned at him, and finally said, "If there are any legitimate prophecies that actually link Harry to the more ominous prophecies, please tell me."

"There are none specific enough, just the _'One Who Hides.'_ Straight after Cerlikh, if you remember, there was talk that such a powerful wizard was too dangerous. Isn't it why Dumbledore took precautions? From all accounts, the boy was treated as a criminal. Maybe it was bad enough that he's terrified of being seen to be powerful and so he hides. But you are right, all I have is supposition." Pettit didn't know about Luna Lovegood's prophecy of a couple of years before, that specifically linked the 'Marked Child of Light' to the sleeping dragon. That prophecy was tucked in a little glass ball on shelf 231 in the Hall of Prophecies, and there never had been any decent filing system.

Pettit started gathering his papers, and said in a resigned voice, "Well, I've told you what I suspect. It's all I can do."

McKenzie was watching him, frowning. Harry Potter still had a price on his head, quite a large reward for his death, and a larger one promised for the boy captured but unharmed. He didn't like thinking that he could have become a murderer, but Arthur Weasley was dead, quite unexpectedly, and no-one else had any reason to want to harm Arthur. It could simply have been a genuine heart attack of course. And there had been the fact that each member of the Vanie Council who'd been present at that fatal meeting, had had their wands broken. An ordinary wizard sometimes took the wand of a defeated enemy, but he never broke wands. Only Harry Potter broke wands. He spoke abruptly, "Leave these here and I'll have a closer look."

"Thank you, Vance. And I know you're doing the best you can to keep Amelia safe."

"I'm doing my best, Wallace." They'd been Aurors together once, and friendly, only that Wallace had been injured badly enough that he'd had to transfer to a different department, while Vance had risen in the ranks of the Aurors to finally become head of the department.

McKenzie studied the prophecies over the next few days, though he didn't discuss them with anyone but his wife, who was furious that he could imply that Harry Potter, the innocent Child of Light, 'shining white,' could do anything even slightly immoral. Sonya was Muggle-born.

McKenzie worried at the problem. It was so unlikely, but what if he was wrong? He didn't want his world to collapse about him. Harry Potter had killed Voldemort when he was just fifteen. He hadn't had a wand, and had been under the influence of a powerful sedating potion. Then all the Death Eaters had either died or been badly affected, but that was probably only because of their connection with Voldemort. And then he'd escaped from Hogwarts, - somehow. He shouldn't have been able to escape, even with a helper. And now? He was obviously a superlative fighter. He'd walked into an ambush at the Weasleys, and still managed to leave three competent wizards tied up on the floor. Was that really likely?

He'd worn those Binding Bracelets for years. Why hadn't he offered to try and take them off for him if it was not his remaining worry that he could be too powerful? But someone had done it for him, he didn't know when, and if he'd got hold of his wand... That beating by Muggles didn't mean a thing. Any wizard was vulnerable without his wand. There was that list of people whom Pettit had named as suspiciously dead. Could Wallace be right, at least about some of them? Arthur Weasley? Arthur had his idiosyncrasies, but he was generally popular. McKenzie didn't think anyone would have a reason to hurt him, except maybe Harry for revenge. But wizards were prone to heart attacks, and Arthur Weasley had been under some stress trying to pay the fines imposed. Dolores Umbridge? That had been a horrible death, but there was not the slightest evidence that it was anything other than an accident. He supposed it _could_ have been arranged.

A few days later, Vance McKenzie and his wife and daughter contrived to be visiting Sirius when Harry was expected. Sirius had told him that he visited most Saturdays around this time.

Harry was surprised to find them, and a little wary, especially when he understood that McKenzie was considering the possibility of him having something to do with various murders. But McKenzie only said smilingly, "Lucille very much wanted to meet you, and Sirius said it was fine. Do you mind?"

Beside him there was a small, pale child, very thin. Lucille spoke up shyly, "Hello Mr. Potter. I'm Lucille."

Harry extended his hand, "Lucille. Pleased to meet you."

"Father said you saved all our lives. I wanted to thank you."

Harry said awkwardly, "There is no need to thank me." He didn't know how much the child knew, and looked to Narcissa for help.

Narcissa said briskly, "Why don't you show Lucille the little boys, Harry? She'll like to see them, no doubt."

"The nursery?"

Lucille was pleased to play with the active toddlers, and confided that she was really fifteen years old, but was just small.

"Do you go to Hogwarts?"

"I'm not healthy enough, so I have a governess," but then she turned back to helping the little boys build a Lego tower. It was a set that Harry had bought for them.

In the other room, McKenzie used a casual voice as he asked, "Did Harry lose _all_ his magic, or does he have something left?"

Narcissa answered him, "He told me he tried and tried all one afternoon the day his wand was returned, but couldn't even do a light spell, and wound up exhausted. In some ways he's still a wizard as potions work correctly on him, but otherwise, Dumbledore achieved his aim. He is incapable of ever being a threat to anyone."

"Except with his knife."

"He carries a gun as well, and doesn't mind it known. He's been threatened too often."

"I thought it would help that he was socialising as a wizard, but it hasn't made any difference, except that more people know what he looks like, and that does _not_ make him safer."

Sirius said, "He's quite goodlooking, but he's not that special. I can't understand it."

Mary said, "They're spoiled, a lot of those who've decided they want him. Just because he's been hard to get, they want him more."

McKenzie said, "There's a lot who simply want him dead. Coming here for instance, he could easily be ambushed and either killed or taken."

"He's very careful..."

"A Muggle, when wizards are after him? It's a miracle he's managed to stay safe so far. I think I'll tell him he should come at more irregular intervals in case he is ambushed, and it would be better if you don't talk about seeing him."

Harry, from the door, said, "Wizards are a little conceited, I think. A gun will take down a wizard before he can utter his first spell, and if threatened, I won't hesitate to use it."

He had Regulus on his back, his arms wrapped around his neck, and James had one fist clutching his jeans. Lucille was with him, and the nanny hovering, wondering whether she should take the boys. They adored their 'Uncle Harry,' but they were seldom allowed into company. But Narcissa extended a hand, and said, smiling, "Hello boys. You wanted to join us."

Lucille said, "Mum, I was telling Harry about the big poster in my room, but he said I should throw it away."

Harry explained, "I've seen the poster. I was told it was like a good luck charm, but that's just stupid!"

"But I like it, and I _want_ it."

Harry looked back at the frail child, glanced around the room, and said, quite casually, "Keep it then, but don't pretend I'm someone I'm not. I'm just an ordinary man, not even with magic."

Narcissa stared at him, blinking. For a moment she'd doubted her own senses. She _knew_ he had magic, very powerful magic, but everyone else in the room were just nodding, apparently quite convinced, and she laughed to herself. Mind-Magic. It seemed young Harry Potter was learning a few tricks!

It turned into a pleasant visit after that, and quite soon the McKenzies left, saying that Lucille tired easily. Mary explained once they'd left, "She's never been healthy. They don't expect her to live much longer."

"What's wrong with her?"

Sirius answered him, "A bad match. Sonya's Muggle-born, and some of the senior McKenzies left too many bastards about. Vance and Sonya are probably related and don't know it. He's got a son though, and he seems fine."

Harry nodded, "Tony, in Hufflepuff. Lucy was telling me."

"Lucy?"

Harry smiled a little ruefully, "She says I'm to be her special imaginary boyfriend since she can't have a real one."

"Are you going to write to her or anything?"

"I don't think so."

Sirius said, "I found another girl willing to marry you, Harry, _nearly_ Pure-blood, and young and quite pretty. Please tell me you'll consider her."

Narcissa glanced at the nanny, who indicated to her charges, and they left with her, only James turning to Harry and saying 'G'bye?"

Harry turned his attention to the little boys, "Goodbye kids. I'll see you again."

Once they'd left, he thanked Sirius for his hospitality, and started to take his leave. Sirius had a very short attention span these days, and the topic of his marriage was one he preferred to avoid. But Sirius persisted, telling him that he owed it to his ancestors to sire an heir for the Potters.

Harry shrugged indifferently, and Sirius said, "You know, I bet the Wikans could find you a Pure-blood bride. They say they're willing to accept you as part of their family."

"The Wikans abandoned a four-year-old child in a foreign orphanage. I am not an admirer of that family!"

Narcissa said, "Probably the mother refused to allow her to be put down. Quite often, it's in the marriage contracts that any Squib child is put down, and if not, they're _always_ sterilised. Your grandmother was lucky, - not sterilised, and adopted into a family."

Both Harry and Mary were looking at her in horror, and Narcissa said, "No need to look at me like that. If a Squib child grows up in a wizard household, they end up embittered, and if they're allowed to reproduce, it weakens us all. Better that they be put down as soon as it's known for sure."

Sirius said, "Remember Argus Filch? He's a misery to himself and everyone else. I know just one other Squib, Arabella Figg, and she's quite batty."

In his disgust and shock, Harry was forgetting to be careful with Sirius, who was acutely volatile in spite of regular doses of potions. He said slowly, "_This_ is your world, where innocent children are _murdered_ because they have no magic!"

Sirius raised his voice, "It's the right thing to do! We must keep ourselves strong!"

Harry bit his lip to keep from answering that. Wizards were not strong! Sirius was dying of a disease caused by inbreeding. Lucille McKenzie was a frail child, probably also because of inbreeding. Was Lucille in danger of being put down? Or maybe she wasn't a threat because she was too sick to breed.

It was difficult, but he maintained his temper until he was safely away from the house.

Sirius, on the other hand, was getting louder, even after he accepted the potion from Narcissa, and then another when it scarcely quietened him. "It's the _right_ thing to do!" he bellowed at Mary, who was still pale with her shock. "My sister... My parents were _right_ to do that. For the greater good, like the wise man said. She was not _murdered_ for no reason! How dare he say she was murdered!"

Mary almost whispered, "What was the name of your sister, Sirius?"

Sirius stared at her, tears in his eyes, "Madeline. She was Madeline. She liked to draw, and sometimes she'd have bad dreams and get into my bed. But then one day she was gone, and we weren't allowed to talk about her any more. Our children, I won't do that to our children."

Mary shook her head, "I wouldn't allow you to. No matter what."

Narcissa glanced at her, but probably it wouldn't arise. Few children were born Squibs, and maybe she'd agree to just a sterilisation if it became necessary. She hadn't thought about it, but Regulus hadn't shown any signs of magic yet, although James had. Maybe she'd best have another child, just in case. James could not be allowed to become the Black heir. He was a Half-blood.

Hermione learned about the practice of putting down Squibs in the context of her training as a Healer. Healer Spleen, the trainer, was dispassionate as he explained that it was not illegal to put down a Squib child, but that it was a Healer's right to refuse to do it. "Some Healers avoid it, but most of us feel that it is our responsibility to ensure that it is easy and painless. A variation of the stun spell will easily deal with a child under the age of eight. If the child is older than eight, a potion is better. If for any reason the child is not put down, they _must_ be sterilised."

Hermione could scarcely believe it, though she could see from the faces of the other students that none of them were shocked as she was shocked. She didn't ask questions, just sitting there, feeling a little ill. At the end of the lecture, each of the students was given a small booklet, _'For the Greater Good.'_

That evening she sat for a long time, just cradling little Reginald in her arms. He was six months old, a lovely healthy baby. He'd shown no signs of magic, but it was not expected for the first year. If there was no evidence of magic by the time a child was five, there was cause for concern, and she remembered a story that Neville Longbottom had told once, of being thrown out a window, but luckily he'd bounced, and they knew then that he was a wizard after all. She presumed that if he hadn't been a wizard, he would simply have been broken on the ground. A Squib, and therefore worse than useless, a threat to the gene pool, though wizards used the words 'Our blood,' or 'Our Common Welfare.'

And that about 5% of babies born were Squibs! How could she not have known that? Yet the only Squib she knew was Argus Filch. No wonder the man craved to punish young wizards!

Meantime, Vance McKenzie assured Pettit that Harry Potter was definitely without magic, and added, "There's been a surprising lack of pressure to solve the murders of the Vanie. Some of them were very old, and what I suspect is that a group of sons got together, and decided it was time to let the younger generation take over."

Pettit was a little shocked, and asked, "Are you _mad_, Vance? If that's what you think, please don't tell anyone or it won't only be Amelia who's a target for assassination."

"If it was them, they can't be allowed to think they got away free."

Pettit shook his head, but once McKenzie left him, started scribbling down names. Michael Pettit was now head of his own House. Michael had a nasty streak, he knew, but he was only in his twenties. Would he have been so impatient? But Eric Bowen was about forty, and might easily have thought it time to take over from his father. A lot of the new Vanie were young, some too young to even _be_ Vanie, like Hillman Steinway, a toddler! And both the Ryan and Parkinson houses were without an heir at all now. Two of the most renowned families, their name going back to the time of Merlin and beyond. It was known that there had been a prisoner or prisoners in the McLaggen household. Probably that had something to do with it. He looked again at the recent photograph of Harry Potter he had on his desk. The Sleeping Dragon?

***chapter end***


	17. Chapter 17

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Anirage are wizards, and an Aniragia is a wizarding area such as Diagon Alley or Albuston. Albuston is in the North of England, and used to belong to Voldemort. * The Vanie are the hereditary 'nobles' of Wizardkind. 'Van' is sometimes used as a title for the Vanie, such as Van Malfoy. . * Wallace Pettit is the Ministry employee in charge of the Hall of Prophecies. He is a lesser member of the Vanie House Pettit. __Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 17**_

It was another Saturday, almost the end of May. It would be exams soon, and both Sarah and Harry were working hard on final assignments. Sarah had declined to accompany Harry to Potter Manor for his weekly visit, and he'd nearly skipped it himself. After the revelation about the treatment of Squibs, he'd been tempted to never go near any wizard again, - ever. But it was the same as before, - he should know what was happening, both for self-protection, and one day, if necessary, as a potential defender of Mugglekind, - _normal_ people.

He glanced reluctantly at the neat piles of newspapers, and turned to the correspondence instead. To the 'Tom Foundation,' - that was Ross's monthly letter, though he saw him now and then in Falmouth, and quite often at the Chase's home. He always found interest in this, and he read the comments thoroughly, though only glancing over the financial statements. That Travis was finally stabilised, and claiming he felt better than he had for years, that he was paying Aaron Bates as a part-time helper for Kevin, 'Ray taught him to drive, and now he drives him to the Hydrotherapy pool most days after school,' and Harry grinned as he read the next part, that Kevin had been banned from having more than two 'assistants.' It seemed that eight boys had gone with him once, and made a nuisance of themselves 'bombing' while elderly ladies sought to ease their rheumatism. There were complaints about their language as well. _'It's our newest arrival, James Wikham. Mike and Tim listened with wide-open mouths to begin with, and now they're copying him. I've learned a few new words myself, and I thought I knew them all!' _

There were no requests for extra money, and Harry tucked the report away with others.

There were some invitations, and he noted that there was to be another Investiture Dinner for replacements for Dolores Umbridge, Gerard Frame and Griselda Marchbanks. Frame was the wizard who'd been subject to audible hostility at his investiture, because he was Mixed-blood. Harry hadn't known he was dead. Marchbanks was very old, and it was noted that she'd retired, and the toad-woman? Some sort of an accident, he thought. He'd caught a small article in the paper a few weeks before, though with no details.

There was also an invitation to the Carlyles for dinner, probably at Hermione's insistence, an invitation for him to speak at the newly formed 'Association of Muggle-born Anirage,' and a few others, mostly from Muggle-born or Mixed-blood families. They would all be declined. Each of them could be a trap, and except for Hermione, they were from mere acquaintances, some from strangers.

He gave a reluctant look at the piles of newspapers, stretched, called a house-elf to bring him a cold can of soft drink, and went for a stroll around the property. It was looking quite good now, and he was finally beginning to feel a pride of ownership. There was a new car in the garage, one identical to the car that Sarah's father had given her as a wedding present. It was a long drive from Cornwall to Potter Manor in Wales, so he mostly apparated, with or without Sarah. Sarah was used to it now, but had pointed out that questions would be asked if they didn't appear to go by normal transport.

He'd almost run out of time when he started on the papers, and received a shock as soon as he turned over the first, headlines blaring, _'Minister Bones killed. Fight in Diagon Alley.'_ Details were scant, but it was noted that three Aurors had been killed, two more injured. He had to check quite carefully to find their names, and was upset to see that both Vance McKenzie and Kingsley Shacklebolt had been killed. He'd never known McKenzie well, but he'd seen a lot of Kingsley as one of his bodyguards, both recently, and also back before and after Cerlikh, though afterwards their duty had been more to prevent his escape than to protect him from attacks. Yet he and Jeremy had helped him when he'd been in pain. He didn't even know if Kingsley was married. He'd always resisted speaking about his private life.

He worked quickly through the other papers, seeing no other news of note, except a small article that mentioned that Senior Auror Gawain Robards was acting as Chief Auror.

It was not until the evening, at home with Sarah, that he wondered if there were any wizards left who still knew he'd spent those years at Kreighley Beach. Severus did of course, but otherwise? Jeremy Huntington and Oliver Pearson had been killed some months before, and now Vance McKenzie and Kingsley Shacklebolt were also dead. He hoped this Robards would not find any written record, but even if he did, the Ricky Drayton who'd been a Kreighley boy, had then become Lee Chase, and now lived in a comfortable unit in Falmouth. Maybe he'd best stay especially alert, just in case. He had no reason to trust Robards, and some reason to distrust him, or at least to be suspicious.

Accidents, even fatal accidents were not uncommon in the wizarding world, but when another Auror was killed late at night, no witnesses, Wallace Pettit immediately thought of Harry Potter. He did some investigating, and quickly discovered that John Dawlish had been one of the Aurors who'd guarded Harry at Hogwarts. Dawlish was a competent Auror, but known as a mean, bad-tempered man. He could easily have made an enemy of the boy. But when he took his suspicions to Robards, he was dismissed out of hand, with a few insults thrown in. Not for the first time, Pettit thought that some men deserved what they got, and rather hoped that Robards would be the next target. If Harry knew what he knew about Robards, he probably would be the next target. He was officially appointed Chief Auror now.

_hphphphp_

Hermione picked at her breakfast. She was alone as Tracey was with the baby and Vayden probably not yet up. He'd been sleeping with Tracey for the past few weeks, after their Marriage Bond had quite suddenly flared into life again, - presumably it was time that Tracey started on another heir for the Carlyles. Hermione was feeling frustrated and unhappy, no matter how often she reminded herself that this was what she'd wanted, that she loved Tracey almost as much as she loved Vayden, that she would never have been so well informed if she hadn't chosen this route. It was silly to wish that she could have had it all, and she did have her baby to love, - almost her own. It felt to her like Reginald was her own - only that she couldn't feed him of course, as Tracey could.

The trouble was that she felt no closer to her original goal of influencing her world for the better. She didn't think she'd managed to influence even one little thing for the better. And she'd been rebuked the previous evening. She thought she'd mastered the rules of etiquette, but she hadn't been able to keep quiet when Tonius, Linley and Vayden were discussing who to nominate as candidates for the Minister for Magic. It had to be Pure-blood, Tonius said, and that allowing Amelia Bones to be elected, had been a mistake. Hermione had pointed out that Amelia had done so much good in so many ways... But Tonius had frowned, and Vayden had said, softly but firmly, that they'd talk it over later. Then Julia had started talking about her charity work for the orphanage, a more suitable dinner-time topic, Hermione supposed, and she stabbed her fork rather too firmly into a daintily cut slice of ham.

She decided to ask again if they could move out, but knew what the answer would be. As long as Reginald was the heir to the Vanie, even if after both Linley and Vayden, then he must be brought up here. He was only seven months old. Surely it didn't matter if they moved away for a few years. If only Schapelle would have a son, but she still wasn't pregnant, and Linley was refusing to consider a second wife.

Hermione heaved a heavy sigh, and abandoned what was left of her meal. She found Tracey in the nursery, feeding Reginald. The baby saw her enter and waved a chubby fist at her, but didn't interrupt his determined suckling. Hermione planted a quick kiss on his forehead, gave Tracey a wave, and said that she'd see her later.

She was in the second and final year of Healing training, and they were doing a lot of practical work. It had been exciting at first, and a real pleasure to be helping people. But even this had started to pall. There was still interest, but so many of the injuries she treated were the result of fights, sometimes illegal duelling, sometimes with the use of cursed objects. Some of the Weasley twins' products had become distinctly spiteful over the last several months, and she was seeing the results.

Her disillusionment didn't stop her from working hard at her studies, as she always had done. She expected to top her class, but then there were only four in her class. With such a small population, a large number of Healers was not needed. With the same number of Muggles, even fewer Healers would be needed; Muggles were not as quick to injure each other.

_hphphphp_

A few days later, it was announced that the election for Minister for Magic was to be held June 13th. To be permitted to vote, a wizard or witch had to be aged thirty, and never to have been convicted of a criminal offence. Harry was ineligible because of his age, and Sirius was ineligible because of his criminal record. The Ministry held that even if he had been innocent of the original crimes he was accused of, he still escaped from lawful custody, and that was a crime in itself. At least there had been no suggestion that he be returned to Azkaban.

The full list of candidates was officially announced on June 1st, - three wizards and two witches, all Pure-bloods from prominent families. Only one of the candidates campaigned with a 'progressive' agenda, in line with the views of the late Amelia Bones, - that Muggles were not to be targeted, and the Muggle-born should be treated equally in all respects. She was quickly garnering a great deal of support, especially, of course, among the Mixed-bloods and Muggle-borns. Her name was Lilliam Smith, wife of Thamius Smith, Head of House Smith, member of the Wizemgamot, and incidentally, the mother of Zacharius Smith, whom Harry had known at Hogwarts.

Harry flipped through his copy of _The Great Houses of Britain._ It had been updated again since he'd killed so many of the Vanie, and there had been several other notable deaths as well, especially among the Landens and Greengrasses. That was a centuries old feud, recently revived. Harry felt he needed to know how individuals fit into the power structure. The other candidates for Minister were Lionel Pettit, Farquehar Greaves and Maxwell MacMillan, probably related to Ernest. The books usually only gave the names of the Head of family, his direct heirs, and those closely related, others only if they'd distinguished themselves in any way. The other woman was Valerie Vanden. He remembered her as a young woman, - Voldemort's memory. She'd been quite beautiful, and he remembered Marking her arm as she'd stared dotingly at him, and then she'd started to scream as the brand burnt in. She must be one of those Marked Death Eaters who'd survived Cerlikh. There were some, Harry knew, but it was hard to know how many.

Lilliam Smith was his obvious preference, but considering the opposition and obstructiveness that Amelia Bones had encountered, he didn't consider it likely that she would win. She'd probably be safer if she didn't win. He did the one thing he could, sent several letters to the _Daily Prophet_ in her support. For most, he used pseudonyms, but did sign his name to one, remembering that he was still a hero to some people, even if those people were not the ones that Narcissa considered worth knowing. A democratic election for the Minister was an odd anomaly when members of the Wizemgamot were appointed rather than elected, and the hereditary Vanie had such enormous influence.

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The Vanie Council met and conferred. The current Chairman, Tonius Carlyle, asked, "Valerie Vanden?"

"Knock her out," came from Ledlie Vanden, "Far too radical, quite unacceptable." There was a murmur of agreement.

"Any other comments? Anyone want her to stay?"

As there were no other comments, Tonius nodded to the one in charge of counting votes, "She's out." It had been the duty of the Pettit family to oversee the vote-counting for many generations. They had in their possession the 'incorruptible magical device' that did the job. Michael Pettit nodded casually, and Tonius asked, "You know how?"

"Father showed me at the last election."

Tonius asked generally, "So the other four stay?" The Vanie preferred to leave the illusion of a democratic election. There was less argument that way, and less likelihood of revolt. Just that any candidate they didn't approve of, didn't quite make it into the vote.

Kosan Brooks, only in his twenties like several of them, said quite casually, "If we're moving toward taking the vote from women, we shouldn't allow female candidates now. And we'll have to get rid of the remainder of those on the Wizemgamot as well."

Agreement was not automatic this time. Tonius for instance, didn't like the thought of how Julia would react to the prospect of losing her vote, and he knew that Tracey and Hermione would hit the roof, even if Schapelle accepted it. There were other married men uneasy at the idea including Draco, but there was no denying that women were a little over sentimental at times. The result was strongly in favour of dropping both female candidates from contention, and a smaller majority in favour of moving to exclude women from voting, preferably by the next election. The Wizemgamot would have to agree with that, and the Vanie were not a majority of the Wizemgamot. Ten members of the Wizemgamot were women, their opposition to the move assured.

Pettit said, "It would be simple to drop them from the actual counting of course."

"No need to this time, and we'll see. We certainly don't want to go the way of the Sudlan, where women run the country!"

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June 13, and the election. Harry didn't believe that his preference would win, and didn't think there was much to choose between the other four candidates, though he felt it reflected rather poorly on the wizarding world that an ex-Death Eater had been accepted as a candidate. He supposed they might not have known, - as long as no-one had witnessed her collapsing when Voldemort died, she might have managed to escape detection.

Lionel Pettit won, as he established a few days later. The numbers of votes for each candidate were not supplied. They never were.

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Summer holidays were on them again. Harry and Sarah had been married six months. It had gone by quickly. Harry was busy and contented, happy in his life. They would spend the next year in France as part of the Languages/Arts degree they were doing, Sarah with an emphasis on Sociology, Harry with an emphasis on History.

Three weeks after the new Minister was elected, he read a letter from the new Chief Auror saying that regretfully, short-staffing in the Auror Department was such that it was no longer possible to provide a bodyguard for him. He was not surprised. It had been an irritation sometimes to always have an Auror dogging his steps, but aside from watching that he wasn't attacked, it was also a protection against nuisances, from overly zealous reporters to autograph hunters. He'd just have to be even more careful when he went out in public.

Hermione completed her training as a Healer. She was sure she had to have had top marks, but when the honour was presented, it was to the daughter of Healer Smethwyck, influential in the power structure of St. Mungo's, and Pure-blood. She wasn't very surprised. Such things happened a great deal, and she remembered how Snape had treated her sometimes, merely because she did her best in lessons.

For a year or two, like any newly qualified Healer, she would work at St. Mungo's, gaining practical experience. She'd done just two years, and not very demanding years, while a doctor studied for six years, she thought, and was expected to keep up with advances in medicine for the rest of his working life. Her course had included a bare minimum of study of Anatomy and none at all in other areas where a Muggle doctor would be expected to be competent. But wizard healing did not include operations, certainly not post mortems, and most injuries were healed by spells, most diseases cured with a potion. She'd had to take the vow never to practise on Muggles, and there had been a few lessons on 'ethics,' some of which she thought barbaric. Still, under instruction she had now sterilised a few Squibs, and euthanased a few incurable cases. At least Healer Jones had allowed her to decline the request of a father to euthanase his baby daughter, born deaf. She assumed that someone else had done the job. She hadn't been told, but had been reminded of the strict confidentiality provisions.

Hermione was a qualified Healer, but it was giving her far less satisfaction than she'd expected. The best part was that from now on, she would be paid. It was good to have her own money, independent of the Carlyles. Not that she didn't love and trust her husband. Of course she did. But it was prudent to have her own safety fund, as Harry had advised.

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Narcissa was watching the children, now eighteen months old. James had a steady hand, and his block tower was considerably higher than the one that Regulus was making. Regulus shot him a look of resentment, and suddenly the tall tower came tumbling down. James stared at it, open-mouthed, and then started to wail, but Narcissa was thrilled and relieved. It might have been a manifestation of jealousy, even spite, but she was just happy that Regulus had magic. She wouldn't give up trying for another pregnancy, but she was not hopeful, and time was running short. Sirius was becoming very difficult to control, not just excitable, but with periods when he was confused, talking words that made no sense, and at such a rate that he would have been impossible to understand even if he was making sense. He still seemed to be mostly happy enough, and Narcissa wouldn't do it a day before she had to.

A few days later there was another incident when Regulus was seen to perform magic, this time witnessed by them all. Sirius was even more thrilled than Narcissa had been, and celebrated by tickling him until he was screaming with laughter. James just watched, quite solemnly. Mary said quietly, "James is feeling neglected, Sirius."

Sirius turned to James, but this time raised his wand, and cast _Rictusempra,_ the tickling spell. James was hysterical with laughter, Sirius laughing with him, and fending off the women trying to stop him. In the end, Narcissa backed off, and used her own wand to stun her husband. Spells were too harsh for small children, and James was blue in the face, striving to catch his breath, his little chest almost paralysed. It was the nanny who muttered a spell, and suddenly the tiny child could breathe again, but he was distressed as well as exhausted.

In the morning, James was better, but Sirius had died peacefully in his sleep. His madness had endangered the children.

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Harry seldom checked his mail more than once a week, and was lucky to receive the notification of the funeral just one day before the event. He thought it would probably be the last time he was seen in wizard society, but Sirius had cared for him, even if in an erratic fashion, and he owed him this much - that he went to the funeral. In her letter, Narcissa said that Lupin's widow, Tonks, had offered to act as bodyguard, and would meet him at the Black residence. A time was set, _'Please don't be late.'_

The Black family vault was in the wizard cemetery in London, but with an increasing demand for space, the Muggle repelling wards had failed, and the Ministry had had to act quickly to ensure that nothing abnormal attracted the attention of Muggle history buffs and tourists. The result was that Sirius would be the first Black to be buried in the new vault in the Albuston Cemetery.

The coffin containing his body was on an elaborate bier, just outside the vault. Surrounding it were the mourners. Individuals were taking their turns to say something about Sirius. When finished, the coffin would be levitated to its place within, and each person who wanted to, would be allowed to enter and place something on the coffin, either one of the black roses supplied, or something that had meaning to them.

Harry thought that if he'd still had it, he would have placed his Firebolt there, but that had been lost years before, when he'd fled Hogwarts. Tonks stood beside him, wand in hand, and very obviously alert for attack.

Draco and Narcissa stood side by side, Mary next to them, trying to be as dignified as Narcissa was. It didn't do to show emotion in public. How often had Narcissa told her that?

Molly Weasley was there, supported by Percy, but no other Weasleys. Minerva McGonnagal was present, attended by a young man, possibly a nephew, and several representatives from Pure-blood families as a mark of respect to one of their own. Hermione wasn't present, though she'd known Sirius. Hermione had been with Harry when he'd met him that first time, skinny, dirty, and still wearing prison rags. Harry had not been asked to tell that story. Narcissa didn't like remembering that her husband had ever been in a prison, fighting for his sanity.

Thirty-eight guests, including Harry, who was one of the last to turn away from the vault. Sirius, his godfather. Way back when he was thirteen, he'd been instantly prepared to trust Sirius, just as soon as he knew he was innocent of the charges that had put him in Azkaban. Yet the man had been acting as if insane, frightened the life out of him when he'd seen him as a grim, he'd slashed Ron's bed-curtains that time, and had quite severely hurt Ron. He guessed it was the godfather bond, the one he'd seen come into being when Draco had assumed the position for James and Reginald. He was sad that Sirius had died so early, and Sirius had done his best. He'd fought a duel for him! Did that mean he'd been loved? Sirius had always said that he loved him, even when he scarcely knew him. Or was it just that Sirius wouldn't have been able to resist the challenge?

They were walking along a broad path toward the hall where there was a meal laid out. There were tall fences on each side. Tonks urged him to the middle of the group, he assumed so that he'd be less of a target. As always when he was with wizards, he wore his robe over Muggle clothing, and was heavily armed. The usual disguise as well, glasses, the wig of long black hair, and the forehead scar slightly enhanced. Tonks would apparate him away when the function was over. If she had any intention of betraying him, he hadn't caught it in her thoughts. Instead she was resolved to protect him even when she didn't like him.

The group quite suddenly slowed and started an uneasy muttering. Not for the first time, Harry wished he was taller. He couldn't see. There was a large man standing next to him whom he didn't know, though almost certainly the man would know who he was. Tonks muttered, "I'm just having a look," and slipped away from him. Harry too ducked back a little, toward the back of the group. Behind them were two men in masks, holding wands at the ready, and somebody called in a frightened voice, "Where are the Aurors?" so he assumed there were some ahead of them as well.

Tonks was suddenly back beside him, "Eight wizards in masks, aiming wands. We're leaving."

There were anti-apparation wards up. Harry could feel them, but Tonks only knew when she grabbed hard onto his arm, and attempted to apparate him out of danger. Others were also trying to escape.

A male voice from in front of them, said loudly and firmly, "Give us Harry Potter, and no-one will get hurt."

Someone, possibly Percy, asked, "What are you going to do with him?"

"He's responsible for too many dead. He's to be punished."

"I heard you want him for a slave. He's a wizard!"

"Nahh. He's to be executed, painlessly. It's not altogether his fault, after all."

Tonks still had Harry's arm in a rather painful grip, and called, "He's Protected by the Ministry. You're in violation of the law even threatening him."

The man snapped, "Just hurry up! More delay and we start breaking legs!"

A man spoke up, the large man who'd been close to Harry before, "Will you leave us alone then?"

"We have no quarrel with anyone else."

There was a sudden scuffle, Tonks was jerked away from Harry by one man, and the arm of the large man went around Harry's neck. Harry was already moving, fighting to break the grip, suddenly slashing at the arm with a knife so that he was freed. But others were pushing at him, some of them women. Harry was furious rather than frightened, and a cruel hand tried to wrench the knife from his grasp, another murmured a stun spell, but Harry was ready, and dodged, so that Mary went down instead. Someone grabbed at his hair, and the wig was jerked from his head.

Harry shook his head, freeing his own hair, sweaty from the warmth and from being under the wig, and took several quick steps away from the crowd, but now he had his machine pistol in his hand. They were going to punish him, were they?

Eight wizards, lined up, all with wands aimed at the crowd, and at him. He took another step forward, both hands steady on his gun, and said coldly, "Drop the wands or I fire."

It could have been that they didn't understand the threat of a Muggle weapon, as two spells streaked towards him. Harry threw himself to the ground to avoid them, but he was also firing, a stream of bullets that stitched across the line of wizards, his gun jerking upwards, so that the last was only grazed on the head, but still downed. Blood, screams and at least two lying dead, gaping, eyes open. He heard something behind him and jerked around, now covering the crowd who fell over themselves trying to retreat. Harry took a wary step backward, closer to the downed wizards. He glanced at them, and saw a hand snaking toward a wand, so that he fired again, this time stitching across the man's right arm, so that he howled and grabbed his arm. One of the bullets thudded into the one lying next to him, but there was no motion, so probably the man was already dead.

Tonks called warningly, "Drop your weapon now, Harry. You have to talk to the Aurors now."

Harry continued his retreat. No way was he dropping his weapon! The crowd had also turned on him, and there were two more of the attackers somewhere behind the mourners.

The whole of the Aniragia was surrounded by high fences, as well as the Muggle-repelling wards. If he didn't go out by one of the guarded gates, it would be suspected that he might have apparated. He started to run. A few chased, but Harry was faster and had more endurance. The gate guard saw him coming, murmured, "Harry Potter," and let him straight through, but then shut the gate, blocking off one of the Aurors who still chased. The subsequent argument lasted several minutes before the Auror shook his head and apparated to reappear a couple of hundred yards ahead. But Harry was out of sight, even when more Aurors joined the search. They only stopped searching when they came upon a tarred road, with cars whizzing along.

Narcissa had a slight smile on her face as she watched the disgruntled Aurors trickle back, panting and red-faced. He'd escaped again, and still she was the only one who knew that he was more than an exceptionally good Muggle fighter. Two Healers had arrived, one was attending the man screaming and holding his abdomen, and the other crouched by the side of a woman who'd been hit by a stray stunner. Mary had already been revived by Draco, while Tonks was talking to the Aurors. There had been two more behind them who should be arrested, but the Aurors were more interested in listening to a man with a bruised face, who was holding a wig of long, black hair. Another was holding his arm as if severely hurt, even though the slash on his arm had been healed. Percy Weasley said, "That is one of the ones who should be charged. He attacked Harry, and so did Turpin."

An Auror scarcely glanced at him, and made no move to question either man.

Less than an hour later, Robards listened carefully to the report, three men dead, two badly injured, one who'd never walk again, and the others injured but healed, and held in the Ministry Detention calls. The two others who'd been behind the crowd, preventing retreat, had not been taken. They'd probably just taken off their masks, and mingled with the people around. He already knew that there had been a couple of Pettits among the group of young men, plus a Liddicombe. The new Minister was Lionel Pettit, so the Pettits, both only teenagers, were members of his family. The Liddicombes were also a Vanie family, as were two of the dead. But could he risk calling for the arrest of Harry Potter? It was time that Potter was put away, one way or another, but there were a lot of people who supported the boy as well, including, it was rumoured, Van Malfoy and the Carlyles, or some of them. And he was labelled 'Protected' by the Ministry.

The new Minister for Magic, Lionel Pettit, visited the Ministry Holding Cells later that day, spoke to the two members of his family being held, and gave orders that they were all to be released, 'Charges unproven.'

Robards asked, "Mr. Potter?"

"Send a request that he present himself for questioning. If he does, let me know immediately," and he added with a half-smile, "I have a certain sympathy for those who would prefer to see him dead."

"Yes, Minister. Do you wish for me to arrange it?"

"Of course not. He has too much support, and things have a habit of getting out."

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Narcissa said to Mary, "A letter from Harry to both of us. He sends his thanks for all we did for him, but says he plans to live abroad."

"You told me the crowd were perfectly willing to hand him over."

"Many of them, including some I would have counted as friends. Young Percival Weasley was trying to stop Hector from pushing him to them, but I didn't see anyone else doing anything."

"He really won't be forgiven, will he?"

"It appears not. That the culprits were not charged is a good indication that Minister Pettit is not exactly a defender of Harry Potter."

"The Daily Prophet is a defender." That morning, the old picture of the _'innocent child, shining white'_ had been on the front page, along with the headline _'What have we done to this young man?'_

Mary smiled, "I am Harry Potter, and Muggle, Squib or wizard, I _will_ defend myself!" It had been on Page 2, along with a recent photograph of Harry taken at the Investiture Dinner he'd attended. It had made him look noble, if rather stern, and the quote had been supplied to them by one who'd witnessed a fight at Hogwarts.

"He should be siring children as strong as himself, and instead he's been driven out."

"Do you think he'll come back?"

"Not to us. It was Sirius who was keeping him visiting, and maybe the boys. He loved our boys."

"I was worried about Regulus for a bit, after what you said."

"So was I."

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In the Carlyle household, Hermione's breath hitched as she saw that image of Harry on the front page. He'd been so young, begging with his eyes as she poured the potion down his throat. But then his eyes had gone blank, and the two big black Aurors had led him out to be sacrificed. She didn't think she would ever quite forgive herself for that betrayal, no matter how many times she told herself she'd been tricked. At least she'd helped him later, even when she hadn't quite believed that he was in danger. But he'd been right. And Vayden had been right when he'd ordered her not to attend the funeral, just in case there was trouble. Harry had obviously been ready for trouble, - but surely he hadn't needed to _kill_ them! They were just boys, most of them. Only one had been older, Eli Greengrass, who was a close friend of Linley's.

Harry read over the list of names. Some of them he remembered from Hogwarts, like Jack Sloper, students mostly a year or two younger than himself. The killings had come back to him in an unpleasant dream the first night after it had happened, but it hadn't been a nightmare. It had been more ugly than his previous killings. At the Vanie meeting, they had simply dropped, no blood, no screams, an exclamation or two towards the end, but it had been so quick there was barely time for anyone to react. This had been different, and yet the result was the same. He had killed again, and it was a regret. And yet it was self-defence. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He did not feel guilty. Harry Potter was becoming accustomed to killing.

***chapter end***


	18. Chapter 18

_Notes for the convenience of readers:__ August, Year 2000. Harry and Sarah have completed the 2nd year of their university courses, and are to live in France for 3rd year. ___

_Disclaimer and Acknowledgements__: * Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. * The 'Green eyes' Prophecy is from the story 'The World Without Me' by Eternal Cosmos._

_**Chapter 18**_

James and Vera Chase, with Daniel and Jason, regarded the spacious apartment that Harry and Sarah were to live in for the coming academic year. It was nice, but not luxurious, in a prime position close to the Sorbonne, and with an expansive view over Paris. It was owned by Hawkesbury Investments, but even the management didn't know that the tenant in the top apartment, Lee Chase, owned Hawkesbury Investments. There was an excellent staff, not only cleaners, but a constant security presence on the ground floor. Harry had organised that months before. He was always security conscious. Muggle security guards might not be able to do much against wizards, (unless the wizards were particularly stupid,) but Muggles had their criminals as well. The profits from the building would be less that year as extra staff had been employed. But there were thirty stories of apartments, large and small, and a high income.

Vera asked, "Are you sure you have enough money for this, Lee?"

"I haven't run into any problems accessing my parents' money. We can afford it perfectly easily."

Jason asked, "You have to work and study?"

"Flexible guidelines. They say that ideally we should work, study, and do some travelling, but the stated minimum hours are easily attainable. Sarah is looking at working for a research company, and I'll be doing a few weeks grape-picking next month."

"What are you researching, Sarah?"

"Conditions in children's homes, mostly. But Lee warms me not to romanticise, that many of the inmates can be pretty tough."

Daniel glanced at Jason, and Jason grinned. He reckoned he was tough. He'd cleared out to London all by himself once, and he could fight. Not like Nick or Lee, of course, but they were older, and anyway, he scarcely had any practice any more. He asked, "Can I come grape-picking with you please, brother of mine?"

"You'll be back at school, but you're all welcome any time, you know that. And there's three bedrooms, so there's space."

Vera smiled, "Next week?"

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Sarah and Harry settled down to a wonderful year. They were young, they had ample money, and were doing what they wanted to do. They did a lot of travelling, passing through Denmark once, and Harry casually mentioned to Sarah that he had relatives there.

"Planning on a visit?"

"Of course not. I've had it with wizards. With any luck, I'll never see one again!"

"Going to attack them?"

"There's been no indication that any of the laws protecting Muggles have been eased. There is no need."

Harry still visited Potter Manor every week or so, checked any correspondence, usually answered with a note 'from his secretary' that he was out of the country and out of touch, checked the various reports from his business managers, and scanned over the newspapers. It usually took a couple of hours, as sometimes he had directives for Larry, his Muggle business manager, though rarely for Gr. Vlasna. Then he had a meal since it made the house-elves so happy, and returned to his wife. It was very good to have a wife.

Meantime, Minister Pettit was making changes. The laws relating to the taking of Muggle slaves were simply dropped from the books, and anyone who'd been convicted of the former crime was released, Luna's father among them. A few of the slaves were reclaimed, though a couple fought when they realised they were to wear a collar again. It was no real problem as the moment the collar was fitted, each remembered that they 'loved' their Master, and only lived to please. Xenophilius Lovegood claimed his Claude back. Claude was willing. He'd never had the slave spells attuned to Lovegood, but had never been punished either, had his master twisted around his little finger, and didn't like the utter boredom of a prison ironically called 'The Freedom Centre.' Besides, he thought he was probably safer with Xeno.

A dozen slaves remained, unwanted. In spite of the efforts made to keep them confined within Muggle-specific wards, two youths managed to escape and vanished into the Muggle world. It was suggested that the remainder be put down, mercifully of course, but after a loud protest from one of the few remaining women in a position of power, they were instead put to work looking after the Muggle-born children in the Orphanage. It was always hard to find people willing to work with the tainted children.

A few months later, one of the Muggle slaves was caught beating one of the Muggle-born wizard 'orphans,' and that arrangement came to an end. There was no discussion that time. The slaves ate their evening meal as usual, felt sleepy and retired early. In the morning, the bodies were vanished. It was not reported. Nothing was reported these days that was not approved by the Ministry.

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Hermione didn't know how much things had changed in a few short months. It was as it had always been, it was impolite to talk of certain things in front of women. The renewed use of slaves was definitely in that category.

The first intimation that Harry had that things had changed was when he was notified of the compulsory acquisition of his shares in the _Daily Prophet_. There was a large cheque, as the price paid was quite generous. None of the former share owners lost financially, but the most read newspaper of the wizarding world now firmly belonged to the Ministry. An outspoken reporter was quietly threatened with Azkaban for being an unregistered Animagus, and decided to return to less controversial reporting. _Witch Weekly_ liked her style of bitchy gossip.

Harry was concerned, but not enough to do anything about it. He'd given up on wizards. He and Sarah were in Germany for a couple of weeks. He knew German, the knowledge acquired from Voldemort. Sarah was still not fully fluent in French, though he was. He scarcely even realised how often he was using a passive form of Legilimency to help him learn a language. He had Latin, Aniragi and a few of the Northern European languages as well, all from Voldemort, who'd been probably the most accomplished wizard of his generation.

The wizard population of the Nadlan took very little notice of prophecies, but maybe Harry's presence was somehow sensed, because there was a sudden rash of them. To be subject to these 'turns' was regarded as an embarrassment, and the words were seldom recorded. There was one, for instance, proclaimed stridently in the midst of a dinner party, "He's here! The one with the killing eyes! Green! Green everywhere! The Boy-Who-Lived! Light and darkness clashing! He's here!"

The woman's husband regarded her with a disdainful look, and then gave her a smart slap across the cheek. He said apologetically to his guests, "She's a good enough wife, three children... Just that she has these silly turns now and then."

The women present looked at her with sympathy, while the men disregarded the incident. The Seer held her cheek and looked confused. She had no memory of the words, though they might come back to her over the next few days. They usually did, but she only recorded them in a private diary. She didn't want to risk further ridicule, or worse. It was not likely she would give her husband any more children, and unwanted wives died sometimes.

There were other prophecies, some speaking of 'The Childless One' who was to be responsible for 'silent, creeping death,' a few even warning against sending their children to school. No-one took the slightest notice. There were no artificially concocted prophecies in the countries of the Nadlan. There was no point where Seers were held in contempt.

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Halloween was approaching. Harry and Sarah didn't give it a thought, while the boys at Kreighley spoke about a midnight drinking binge at the beach. It was only talk though. Ryan stopped it when he checked the tide tables. He'd had quite a scare the previous Christmas, though the others seemed to think it ancient history.

At the Carlyle Manor, Hermione and Tracey were sitting on the floor watching the toddler squirm as the nanny tried to change his nappy. Suddenly the nappy went flying to hit the wall, and Reginald giggled. The nanny used her wand to retrieve it, spoke sternly to the child, only to have it fly away again. Hermione and Tracey exchanged looks. He was just over a year old. To show magic at such a young age indicated that he was likely to grow up to be a powerful wizard. It was not the first time, the previous day a spoonful of the sort of pap adults thought suitable for babies, had been dropped, but that could have been an accident. But flying nappies were no accident. Little Reginald apparently preferred nudity.

Later that day, Vayden came to find the women, "Weren't we supposed to get an invitation to the Samhein celebration at the Pettits? I haven't seen it."

Tracey answered him, "They didn't invite Hermione. We agreed we would not attend any events where she was not included."

Vayden answered impatiently, "I didn't mean _this_. It's important. We're all going."

"Hermione?"

"Hermione won't mind staying home just this once will you, love?"

Hermione smiled ruefully, and agreed that she would stay home. The Samhein celebration was important to the Pure-bloods, and naturally they wouldn't want a _Mudblood_ to attend! But that night, Vayden joined her in bed, as he hadn't for some time, and she remembered that she did love him, even if there were drawbacks to the life she'd chosen.

A week later, Tracey kissed her on the cheek, and whispered, "I'm sorry, love."

Hermione smiled sadly, "I know."

"It's sort of a special tradition. I'll be with the group of young women, then the young men in a separate place, and then the older ones, men and women. No children. It's a sort of ceremony, but I'm not allowed to tell you anything really."

"You're going to call up the magic?"

"Something like that, but I'll get into trouble if they know I told you that much even."

"The men are stupid bloody _pricks_, sometimes!"

Tracey shook her head, a slightly crooked smile on her face, "I know. But I'll tell you one thing might cheer you up. I'm pregnant again. There'll be another baby for you to spoil, and also, you'll have Vayden in your bed again almost every night."

"Tracey! Are you sure? How do you feel?"

"I feel very well, though I assume that won't last long."

"Well, I may miss events like this, but I think I might have the best of it."

"My babies are yours too."

Hermione hugged her, "Take care."

The young women, - Tracey and Schapelle, Tracey's sister Marie, married to Draco Malfoy, three young Pettit women, plus two married ones, five young women from other families, were all together at midnight in the small clearing that had been used for generations for just this purpose. Tracey had refused to tell Hermione the details of the ritual, and she could find no reference in books. She didn't know what they were doing, and it was surely the wrong season for a fertility ritual.

Whatever it was, it went very badly wrong, as she was informed by a servant the next morning. The young women had all been killed, plus both Linley and Vayden, who'd ventured too close to what the servant described as 'an evil black wind.' Hermione was staring at her in utter shock, and the woman said, "Here's the paper. It's a special edition. I thought you'd want to be told first, before you read about it."

Hermione just nodded, and the woman said, "I'm to inform you that Tonius will see you tomorrow. You will understand that he and the mistress are not in the mood for company today."

Company! She was family, but when she thought about it, she wasn't interested in talking to Tonius and Julia in any case. Tracey gone. Vayden gone. She was widowed. Schapelle was gone. And Linley. The Carlyles had suffered a devastating blow. _She_ had suffered a devastating blow. Reginald had lost his Mum and Dad, but at least he still had his other Mum. He called her 'Mye,' and she went to see her baby son.

On request, she was granted a week off work, with a few words of sympathy and a little quizzing to find out what she knew about the tragedy. But she still knew very little, only that there had been thirteen women killed and three men, Vayden, Linley and John Pettit. There were also three men quite badly burned trying to rescue their wives, - an odd sort of burn that had been bitterly cold.

Thirteen women, all young, some married, some not. They were buried together in a special grave, very large. There was an elaborate monument, a large plaque displaying the thirteen names. Hermione was not told just why they were all buried together, though she gathered hints that maybe the bodies had become indistinguishable one from another, maybe even that some were fused together. The researcher in her would have liked to know more, even when her grief seemed too much for her to bear. Reginald kept her going. The child needed her.

Linley and Vayden were buried in a separate ceremony. Tonius complained bitterly that the old Carlyle vault was no longer usable, and planned to complete the new one at the Albuston cemetery as soon as possible. He didn't like his sons resting in what he described as a 'mere shed!'

The week home from work drew to a close, and Hermione knew she would have to make a decision. There was a nanny, but a baby needed a mother, and now that Tracey was gone, she was his mother. She spoke about it at dinner on the fifth evening after the deaths, but Tonius glanced at his wife and said that she should not make hasty decisions, and that Julia was happy to look after the child whenever needed.

Hermione looked questioningly at Julia, who shrugged, and said, "I am his grandmother. You seem to forget that."

Hermione smiled politely, "Of course," reflecting that Julia had never shown any interest in the child.

Hermione returned to work, though she'd temporarily dropped her evening studies, - politics and Aniragi traditions, as well as Muggle medicine. Hermione was never one to shirk what she perceived as her duty, and when she decided to resign, she gave ample notice.

The day after she handed in her notice, she was at work, tending a wizard with spell burns over most of his body, when another Healer excused himself, said that he'd take over the patient, and she was requested to meet Mr. Carlyle in the Visitors' tea-room. It was not Tonius, as she'd expected, but Bartlett Carlyle, the Carlyle solicitor. She greeted him and joined him at the table. She knew Bartlett Carlyle, she'd dealt with him during the marriage contracts.

He greeted her, "Mrs. Carlyle."

She smiled, though beginning to be a little nervous, "Hermione, you know that."

His smile was constrained, "Hermione. My instructions will not to be to your liking."

A half an hour later, she was still sitting there, in shock.

In front of her were the keys to an apartment close to St. Mungo's, 'for her convenience.' All her belongings had already been moved there. The apartment was paid for three months, and she had use of a house-elf for that time. Reginald... her baby. According to the solicitor she had no claim on him. He was to be raised by Tonius and Julia, - the ones who'd taken so little notice of him in the past. He was a baby, scarcely a year old! He needed her, needed a mother, and Tracey was gone.

The practicalities. According to the solicitor, she had inherited nothing from either Vayden or Tracey. Vayden had been a second son, so had little of his own money, and had never worked for a wage. He'd left no will. Tracey had never worked, and had only had her allowance from the Carlyle Head of House. Hermione had also had a small allowance, but that was to end. She did have some savings and her pay, but the salary of a newly qualified Healer was small. For a time it would be very difficult to live, and she looked back at the details supplied by Bartlett. The apartment was not cheap. There had been an offer, - if she agreed to drop her married name, and revert to 'Miss Granger,' she would be supplied with a lump sum of money, and a generous living allowance for the next five years. If she accepted she would live in comfort. She hadn't given an answer, just stared blindly at the solicitor, who'd finally, quite awkwardly, gathered up his own papers, left a few in a neat pile in front of her, and walked briskly out.

Fifteen minutes later, she was still there, as her supervisor ascertained. Anthea said, "He told me. You have the rest of the day off, and I've put aside your letter of notice." Hermione said nothing, still looking at the set of keys in her hand. Anthea tried again, "We'll go there together if you like. Maybe have a coffee. He said there was a house-elf assigned."

Hermione rose wordlessly. To cry in public was a disgrace not to be considered. She raised her head proudly, and stated calmly, "I will take the day off, thank you. There's no need to come with me. I know where it is."

Anthea put a hand out, and gently touched her shoulder. It was nearly Hermione's undoing, but she forced back her tears, and went to see the apartment. It wasn't hard to find, a large block quite close to St. Mungo's, though in a Muggle area.

Bridey, the house-elf greeted her with a large drink of hot chocolate and some warm muffins, "Here you be, Miss Granger. I've packed everything, and you don't worry."

Hermione stared at the little elf, and finally said, quite coldly, "You call me Hermione, or Mrs. Carlyle. I will not allow them to take my name as well."

Bridey cringed and agreed. She was only following orders. Hermione tried to apologise to the little creature, but then it was too much. She'd lost her baby! She'd lost her husband and her dearest friend, and now she'd lost her baby! And little Reggie. How could he understand that she'd abandoned him to that snobbish bitch of a woman? She tried to retain her dignity long enough to dismiss the elf, but failed, suddenly whirling and running to the bedroom, where she flung herself onto the bed, and dissolved into tears. To lose her baby!

The elf hovered indecisively for a moment, then very quietly closed the door, and crept about, preparing an evening meal and tidying away some of the possessions piled in a corner. She wanted to help Miss Hermione, who may have been a bit odd sometimes, but was always nice to house-elves.

Hermione had known from the first that they wouldn't let her have Reginald back, but she hadn't thought that they'd deny her contact entirely. Her requests to visit were denied, and when she tried to visit uninvited, stinging wards stopped her at the gate. She tried to hire her own solicitor in an attempt to get custody of Reginald, or at the very least, visiting rights, maybe even money. She'd been a wife. There must surely have been some sort of an inheritance. One by one, every solicitor she contacted told her she didn't have a hope, and one told her frankly that he wouldn't risk his career to go against the Carlyles. Some of them billed her for the consultation, but others refrained. Before long, her savings had vanished, and Bridey quietly appropriated supplies from the Carlyle mansion in order to make her meals.

Life became a lonely drudgery, and her apartment had only been paid for three months. Her pay just wouldn't stretch far enough for an apartment of her own, certainly not a spacious one in such a good position. There were options, - she could allow the bastards to pay her to revert to her maiden name, or she could try to get a loan to tide her over until her salary increased. If her parents had still been available to her, she could have gone to them, but it was a criminal offence for her to visit her parents.

She found it difficult to understand the utter cruelty with which they'd cast her aside. She'd thought that Tonius was a reasonable man, she'd respected him! There was a part explanation when an acquaintance told her that there was talk that the Carlyles' Mudblood connection had tainted Samhein, resulting in the deaths.

She went to a work Christmas party, and found herself shunned. Only Anthea Jones, her supervisor, made some effort to speak to her, but Anthea herself was Mixed-blood, possibly only a Half-blood. Hermione had never been popular, neither at Primary School, nor at Hogwarts. It was why she'd so clung to the friendship of Harry and Ron. And then Vayden, and then Tracey. Harry was never seen any more, Ron wasn't worth considering, and Hermione had no true friends. She'd been happily married to Vayden for just twenty months. She wondered if she would ever be happy again. Christmas was looming. She'd be miserable alone, and so she volunteered to work. Christmas was always busy, family quarrels among wizards often ending in severe injury. But then she guessed that Muggle hospitals were probably busy at Christmas as well.

***chapter end***


	19. Chapter 19

_**Notes for the benefit of readers**__: 'Cerlikh' is when Voldemort was killed, and all the Death Eaters affected to various degrees, 317 of them killed. At that time, Harry absorbed his power into himself, as well as a lot of his knowledge and memories. * Harry's family, Vera and James Chase, and Daniel and Jason, both adopted from Kreighley Beach Boys' Home. __Kreighley__: Ross Davies, manager, and Helen, his wife. __Boys__: Kevin Stern, who has Muscular Dystrophy, his brothers, Larry and Warren. Paul Knight was 'The Cupboard Kid.' 'Staffy' was once known as 'Stinker.' __Harry's business managers:__ Larry Carmichael, Muggle, who knows him as Lee Chase, and Goblin Vlasna, who knows him as Harry Potter. _

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.  
_

_**Chapter 19**_

Jason and Harry walked down the main street of Traynor for a few final gifts, and Jason suddenly started laughing. When Harry turned to him in surprise, he explained, "Remember when Dan was about to be adopted, and I cleared out for London? You told me that one day you'd have a grandson called Paul, and every year there'd be arguments because both sets of parents want you for Christmas. You didn't have to wait for a grandson. It's you and Sarah who have to work out where to go for Christmas."

Harry grinned, "Gayle for Christmas Dinner this year, but we're staying with Mum."

"Your father-in-law?"

"Tremaine wants us to be there for a New Year's Eve party, and then to stay for a few days. Sarah hasn't decided yet, but I expect we will."

Harry paused and looked over at a group of boys of various ages. They were in Kreighley uniform, and should have looked neat and cared-for, except that shirts were hanging out, and one wore a holey red jumper under his good quality blazer. One was in a wheelchair. Jason said, "Kevin's there, but I can't see Paul. Do you want to talk to them?"

"I'm just Lee Chase, remember. I wasn't at Kreighley.."

"Some of them will know you're Ricky. At least your hair's not half blonde any more."

Harry was still looking at the Kreighley boys, and asked, "Who's the one with the red jumper?"

"That's Staffy."

A few minutes later, he was greeting Kevin, and shaking hands with Mike and Tim, who gave him a cheeky wink, Zack Bates, and the two Stern Brothers he hadn't met. Kevin said carelessly, "And that's Staffy, but don't try and shake his hand, as he'd fight you instead."

Harry just nodded, "Staffy."

Staffy nodded briefly, stated impatiently, "We're shopping," turned his back and disappeared into a place called 'Jerry's Junk.'

Mike said in a tone of apology, "I don't think he's ever been shopping before."

"This shop is new, isn't it?"

"Yeah. All sorts of stuff, and cheap!"

Kevin interrupted, "Come on Larry. Help me up. I want to go in. Warren, you watch the chair."

They disappeared, Kevin walking awkwardly with his older brother close, leaving Harry and Jason with Tim, Mike and Zack.

Zack said, "Kev thinks someone might steal his chair. He's a bit paranoid, ever since someone moved it as a joke."

"Want an ice-cream then? I'll treat, and someone can deliver one for the chair-guard."

Warren grinned, "Yes, please. I don't dare move though. Kevin said."

The remaining boys were allowed to move, and by the time the shoppers had emerged, were eating and talking in the nearby ice-cream shop. Both Mike and Tim said they wanted to complete school, and Mike said he was going to be an accountant because he liked money.

Harry asked, "You, Zack?"

"Nahh. Too much study. I reckon I'll be a fisherman."

Mike volunteered, "I might go into tourism instead. They say there's more and more tourists, even here."

Jason asked, "How's Paul?"

"He says he hates crowds, and he's staying away from town until Christmas is over."

Zack put in, "His parents are to be tried soon."

The gossip continued, Harry very interested, especially when Mike said that there was a couple in town wanting to adopt someone. "They've had six of us stay for a weekend, two at a time. And they give each one who visits lots of new clothes and other presents, but they're very religious, and no-one really likes them."

Tim grinned, "Linc says he's going to act as good as gold, and only when it's near to being finalised, say that he doesn't want them. He thinks he'll get more presents that way."

"Linc?"

"Lincoln Harvey. But they probably won't want him anyway. He's not goodlooking enough."

Kevin had steered his wheelchair close, and asked, "You still talking?"

Staffy was glowering at them, and suddenly demanded, "I want an ice-cream too."

Kevin reached over and gave him a clip over the ear, and Staffy glared at him, then stalked away.

Harry said, "Call him back. He can have an ice-cream, and anyone else who wants."

"I don't think so. He has to learn to be polite to strangers. You don't reward behaviour like that."

Harry shrugged, "You're probably right," and wondered how on earth Ross always seemed to know what to do when kids acted up. Kevin was right that rude behaviour should not be rewarded, but he was sorry for the boy, who'd probably come from a worse background than Kevin could imagine.

Ross and Helen visited for Christmas drinks that evening, and he mentioned that he'd seen Kevin rebuke Staffy for poor manners, and Ross laughed, "Kevin! Though I must admit he's a lot better these days."

"Any improvement in Staffy?"

"Some. At least he mostly has the sense not to take on the bigger boys now. Though one jeered at Paul, and suddenly found Staffy on top of him."

"Who was that?"

"Joshua Purfleet, but he was only with us for a few weeks when his mother landed herself in hospital."

"Ross, how do you know what to do to help them? I was just thinking about Staffy. I know I wouldn't have a clue."

"I make mistakes, but I think if you care, you don't very often make bad mistakes." He grinned, "I was far too severe on you just before you left, ordering you to scrub the whole of the dining hall."

"_And_ all the furniture. I'd never seen you so furious. I didn't mind the punishment. That someone was worried about me... I hadn't really thought you might worry like that."

"Well, there you go. Whether it's parenting or managing a Boys' Home, if you do your best, if you care, you don't go too far wrong."

_hphphp_

Harry checked his mail again a couple of days after Christmas. There were the usual business reports, then the papers, which contained little of interest to him, only that Percy Weasley had married Penelope Clearwater. He was surprised at that. Like most of her family, Penelope had been Marked as a Death Eater. She hadn't died in Cerlikh, but he was sure that he'd heard that it had left her brain-damaged.

Sarah was sitting at a second desk, idly flicking through Witch Weekly, but tossed it aside and asked him if he was finished yet.

"Nearly," he replied. "Just a few letters."

"This magazine is even more puerile than the ordinary women's magazines."

"In fourth year, there were some very embarrassing articles about Harry Potter, Boy-who-lived. For a while last year as well. Not any more though. I don't know whether it's changing attitudes, or just that I'm forgotten."

"You told me you shot several at Sirius's funeral. I doubt if you're forgotten!"

"Almost six months ago." He flicked quickly through the last of the papers, and said, "Uninformative. Only that America's wizards seem to be picking themselves up a bit."

"Shame. It seems to me that wizards would be better eradicated."

Harry felt a little hurt, "_I'm_ a wizard!"

"Well, maybe not individuals as such, but it doesn't seem to me as if they have much notion of civilised behaviour, even amongst each other."

"I guess not."

Harry had picked up a thick envelope, and frowned in puzzlement before skipping to the end of the five page letter, and finding it unsigned. The writing was familiar though, and after reading the first few paragraphs, he was wondering if Hermione had intended to send it. It started off neatly, but quite quickly turned into an almost illegible scrawl that was quite uncharacteristic for Hermione. Puzzling it out, he gathered that she was furious, she hated the whole damn lot of them, and that it was totally, incredibly _unfair!_ On the last page it said, _'I don't know why I am writing to you, Harry, only that you must have felt as angry as I do now. It's just so unfair, and I could __scream__ at them, or if I had the magic you used to, I'd be breaking windows, and making a tornado like you did when they brought you back. Sometimes I think I hate them... I... _He couldn't read the next part, but it finished abruptly, _'I don't know what to do.' _

The paper, ordinary note paper, not parchment, was rather creased and blotched at that point, and it just stopped. There was no signature, not even scrawled initials. Harry turned to Sarah, "Remember I told you about Hermione? She seems to be in trouble, but it could be a trap."

Sarah read, having even more trouble than he had, but she finally said, "She says she can't simply return to the Muggle world. Not only that it would have to be secret, though I couldn't make out why, but that she has no qualifications and no history."

"She'd be twenty-one now, and no record of any schooling since she was eleven. But anyway, I doubt if she wants to return."

After a few minutes thought, he made his decision, "I'll go and see her. I can certainly help with money, if nothing else."

"There was something about a loan, but I couldn't read it."

"Goblins, I think. She said the goblins refused her a loan because she has no security."

"Goblins?"

"I thought I told you about the goblins. Gr. Vlasna manages some of my investments."

Sarah shook her head, "Goblins!"

"Goblins, giants, mer-people, trolls..."

"It sometimes sounds like some second-rate fantasy novel."

"Just because we have goblins, doesn't mean it's not real."

"Can I come? You told me I'd like Hermione."

"She's a good person. She always wanted to do the right thing, to _improve_ things. For instance, she was livid when she found out about house-elves. And being a Healer, helping people... that's just typical of Hermione."

"I'd like to meet her..."

"In some ways, you're a little like her. You _would_ like her I think, but it's the same as it's always been. I don't want them to know about you. It could put you in danger."

When Harry went to see Hermione, very cautiously, his wedding ring was on a thin gold chain around his neck, inside his shirt. His own black hair was beginning to be long again, but this time he wore it concealed under a wig of mid-brown hair.

Hermione met him at her door with an astonished stare, and then pulled him in quickly, looking around nervously as she did. He asked her, "Hermione?"

"You shouldn't have come here. The Muggle-born get watched sometimes."

"They do?"

"Especially me now. Vayden died, you know, and the Carlyles threw me out."

"You sent me a letter..."

"Is that why? I didn't mean to... I'm afraid I became awfully drunk one night, but I thought I threw it away."

"You wrote that you were all alone, and you were refusing to give up your married name."

"The bastards took everything else. They're not making me pretend the marriage never happened."

"Is it safe to sit and maybe have a cup of coffee?"

"I don't know. After Sirius's funeral... Well, I heard the price on your head has gone up." She paused, looking at him, "I hope you don't think that _I_ would consider it."

"It never occurred to me. And anyway, if you need money, I can give you some."

Hermione said stiffly, "I don't need charity."

"Remember how you helped me survive the Triwizard Tournament? I am happy to give you money, a loan if you insist."

Hermione looked at him indecisively, and then asked, "Can I meet you somewhere? We can talk properly then. I don't like you being here."

They decided on a place. For Harry, it would mean a quick trip on the Underground. Hardly any wizards knew how to use the Underground Rail network, which made it safer than most forms of transport. Hermione would apparate to a nearby Approved Apparation Point, and then walk.

Hermione was waiting for him when Harry arrived, dropped the Hiding Spell, and joined her. She looked him over, noting the short brown hair, and asked, "You're wearing a wig again?"

"It's the easiest way of changing appearance. I really don't want to find myself in the hands of wizards who want to kill me, or worse."

"I didn't quite believe you were in any danger. Not really until Arthur Weasley was convicted of setting up an ambush."

"I found it hard to believe myself at first. But last time I was attacked, it was just for execution. I think I'd prefer execution to being a slave."

"Some bloody wizards get away with anything they damned well please!"

Harry raised his eyebrows, "Things must be bad. Remember how you always chipped Ron and me for swearing?"

Hermione sighed, "My parents. I can never forgive the Carlyles for taking my child from me, and then I discover the Ministry hurt my parents. They were obliviated. I was told some time ago, also that I wasn't allowed to go near. They're so damaged. I didn't even know until I went to see them, just from a distance. I wouldn't have wanted to disturb them, and also... to know that your own parents had totally forgotten you... They didn't look like themselves, and I did some investigating. They're no longer dentists, and if it wasn't for Dad's sister, they'd probably be institutionalised. They were highly intelligent people, and now they're victims."

"We were always told obliviation was harmless. Muggles are often obliviated."

"Remember Mr. Roberts and his family? At the Quidditch World Cup? He was quite vague and confused at the end because he'd been obliviated too many times. Mr. Weasley assured us he'd be fine, and no-one was concerned, so I thought it was all right."

"_Was_ he all right?"

"The wife seems all right, but Mr. Roberts is dead. Apparently he stayed confused, couldn't remember anything for more than a few hours, and people made fun of him. He was run over by a train in the end, probably suicide. One child died a week after the event, and the other goes to a special school. Brain damage."

"I haven't been to check on the Dursleys."

"When did you last see them then?"

"I needed a birth certificate, so dropped in not long before I wound up with a vanished thigh bone. I only saw Petunia. She said she thought I was dead. She was all right then, or at least, the same as she always was."

"You should check to see if they're still all right. They interfered with my parents without reason, it's likely they visited your relatives as well."

"The Dursleys treated me very badly indeed, you know. I don't really care what happened to them."

Hermione stared at him, quite shocked. Harry shrugged, "Surely you knew. I always came back from holidays half-starved."

"I know you didn't like them, and you stayed at school most holidays. But they never hit you or anything, did they?"

"I was nearly killed once, but I think Dumbledore interfered then. I recovered, scars new and old suddenly cured, and after that, it was only a shove now and then, no whippings, and no full-on beatings. I think Dumbledore wanted me there to keep me humble. He was a truly evil man, Hermione. I think he was worse than Voldemort."

"It's hard to think of him as my father."

"Dan Granger was your father. That old bastard was merely a _sire_. He was _never_ a father, though he liked to put on that false fatherly facade."

"I was so thrilled to be a witch, you know? It's different now. All grown up, disillusioned... How they treated you, how I was treated... Yesterday I was asked to kill an eleven-year-old boy only because he was a Squib, and they didn't want him any more. They consented to have him sterilised instead, so when I did it, I also did both the parents. Secretly that is; they didn't know. They don't deserve children."

"Maybe you should do everyone you come in contact with. I quite often think the world would be better without any wizards in it."

"An uncivilised culture, you said."

"I did. Muggle culture is infinitely superior."

"In some things, maybe." Hermione hesitated a moment, and then offered, "This slavery business, Vayden always said it's very rare these days. He knew no-one who had slaves."

"Maybe it's just me then, that some think it would be an apt revenge."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, "Personally I think it's quite disgusting. I can't imagine a man wanting to do _that!_ It's _dirty!"_

Harry grinned. It was, rather. He was not like James, who was thoroughly sickened with the whole idea, but he certainly preferred not to contemplate the details of what Vince and Michael did in bed.

_Hphphp_

Hermione was very thoughtful after that meeting. Harry seemed happy, confident, and without that look of strain that she knew her own face showed. Yet he was crippled. She wouldn't want to lose her own magic, and maybe she'd best not contact him again. It would only put him in danger, though she had to admit that he wasn't as helpless as she would have expected a Muggle to be against wizards.

When she paid the next month's rent with money that Harry had given her, she kept thinking about what he'd said, that maybe the world would be better off without wizards. They'd destroyed her family, her father and her mother. Luckily there'd been no siblings, or she supposed that they, too, would have suffered mind damage.

Hermione was a Healer. She was good at magic, perfectly capable of working a sterilisation spell non-verbally, even capable of developing a sterilisation spell for women that only blocked the Fallopian tubes, rather than vanishing the womb, which meant that it would be painless. Most Aniragi Healers had probably never even have heard of the Fallopian tubes. She'd like to sterilise Tonius Carlyle, just to ensure there would not be a baby who might supplant Reginald as the Carlyle heir. Julia was too old to have more children, but all Tonius had to do was to take another, younger wife. There was still a surplus of women, especially of those over the age of thirty or so. How would she go about getting to him?

A few days later, she happened to treat Eli Greengrass for a minor ailment, remembered that he was one of those who'd attacked Harry at Sirius's funeral, and sterilised him. He nearly caught her with her wand aimed however, and she thought that she needed to contrive to have her victims with their backs turned. It was easy enough to rearrange her office slightly, so that when they signed for their treatment, they faced away from her.

She was quite selective at first, but as the months passed, her bitterness grew. She still pined for the family she'd lost, repeated pleas to just visit the baby were denied, and the unfairness of it grated on her. There were all the other things as well, a brief contact from Harry, who stated that while Vernon Dursley seemed unaffected, both Petunia and Dudley had been damaged by the obliviator. She started attending the 'Association of Muggle-born Anirage,' or _AMBA_, supposedly just a social club where they shared tea, scones and gossip, but there were more serious discussions, usually in undertones. Hermione was not the only Muggle-born who suspected she might be under surveillance. There were other families who'd been damaged beyond recovery. The day she discovered the fact of routine abduction of Muggle-born children, she sterilised every man, woman and child she treated.

She was a little repentant the following day, and for a while, she ceased the practice. She was not a traitor to her kind, - was she? But it _was_ a barbaric culture. She herself was a product of rape. And the wicked old man who'd left her mother pregnant, was still revered in Aniragi society. She remembered his funeral, when his achievements had been lauded. Voldemort's estate had been named Albuston after him, though it had been Harry who'd defeated Voldemort, not Dumbledore. But Harry had been wickedly punished, his magic painfully torn from him, and was now a virtual exile, his life and freedom under constant threat.

She thought often of leaving wizard society, of attempting to make a new start away from them all, she even prepared a false identity. But then there was a meeting of AMBA, when seven Aurors thrust their way into the home, took names, and warned them that any attempt to disappear into Muggle culture would be to invoke the penalty of a total obliviation of all their memories of magic. They knew what that meant, - sufficient brain damage that they'd never be able to function normally again.

Aurors had to undergo an annual health check, usually done by the Ministry Healer. But Healer Braithwaite had been severely injured by a joke product, so they requested the loan of one of the St. Mungo's Healers for a few weeks. It took a few favours, and a little of Harry's money, but Hermione wound up in the Ministry building, occupying Braithwaite's office. One by one, the Aurors presented for their appointments, and one by one, she checked vital signs, general fitness, had them sign the list, and aimed her wand, silently thinking the spell. None of those bullying Aurors were going to sire any more children.

It had not been the Aurors who'd given the order to intimidate, but it took time and cunning before she thought she'd dealt with most of those with decision-making power. There were other patients while she acted as Ministry Healer, secretaries wanting headache potions, a couple of maintenance men who'd managed to burn themselves, others with cuts and bruises and minor ailments. She didn't sterilise all of them, and not many of the women, though she was pleased to get Ludo Bagman. She had a strong suspicion he ill-treated his wives. She also counted it as a victory when she saw Draco Malfoy walk past, and carefully, surreptitiously, ensured there would be no Malfoy heirs, or not unless one was already conceived. Malfoy had been the first to call her Mudblood, but the expression was becoming more and more common.

Toward the end of June, she spotted Tonius and Julia at a jewellery shop in Diagon Alley. Covering herself with Cloaking Magic, she drifted closer until she could take aim. Unless Reginald died, he would in due course become Van Carlyle, inheriting the wealth, the property and the title. She only hoped he was being looked after as he should be, with someone who would teach him ethics along with his reading and writing. True ethics, not wizard ethics. She didn't think much of wizard ethics.

***chapter end***


	20. Chapter 20

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Harry's family, Vera and James Chase, and Daniel and Jason, both adopted from Kreighley Beach Boys' Home._

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 20**_

It was July 31st, 2001. Harry and Sarah were at Potter Manor, Harry in his office going through newspapers, correspondence and reports, while Sarah was outside with a new employee. His name was Gary Williams, and he was to be responsible for the grounds. He would not be living onsite, but would commute from the tiny village close. For the past few years, a neighbour's teenage son had been doing part-time work for them, but he would be leaving the area soon, and besides, they needed someone with more organisational skills. A larger garage was needed for a start. Harry and Sarah still had a year of University left, but after that, this was to be their primary home. It was to be re-named, all signs of magic, including books and newspapers, were to be relocated to the basement, and the house-elves were asked to be very discreet whenever there were guests. And finally, he would tell his family that he had inherited a home and acreage in Wales.

He didn't plan to admit that he was a wizard. Dudley Dursley was little more than a vegetable now. The idea that Dan and Jason could be attacked like that, filled him with horror. If wizards ever hurt his family... He still didn't know the extent of the change in wizard politics. He hadn't kept in contact with Hermione, and the only contact he'd had with Narcissa and Mary since the funeral, was the note he'd sent advising that he'd be abroad and out of touch.

When he came to an article in the revived _Quibbler_ that mentioned that it was the birthday of Harry Potter, he stopped in surprise. He'd forgotten again, and wondered if Sarah had remembered. He was twenty-one today, a significant birthday in Muggle culture. He shrugged, and scanned the article. There was never a mention of him in the other papers he checked.

There was hardly anything worth reading in the Daily Prophet, a big article about the latest Quidditch scandal, - it seemed that a star player had been having an affair with someone else's wife, another about a particular achievement of the Minister of Magic, and Lionel Pettit appeared looking haughty and distinguished. There was the usual large and colourful ad for the Weasley twins' joke shop, and an article warning that the secrecy provisions had been strengthened.

Harry yawned as he checked the births and deaths. He felt he should keep up, but really he'd rather forget the wizarding world existed. One birth, five deaths, one of a senior female member of the Wizemgamot, and a few marriages. It seemed that Draco had taken another wife, and so had Tonius Carlyle. It was less than a year since Draco's first wife had been killed at the Halloween disaster, he'd married a young Carlyle girl just a few months later, and now another, Venetia Vanden, who'd been a year above him at school, Slytherin. He supposed Draco was desperate for an heir. How odd it was that Draco appeared to be one of his few supporters. There were the Muggle-born, of course. They probably still liked him.

Sarah came in sweaty and dirty, and said, "I need your opinion, my love. Gary says we should have a formal rose garden, with a sundial in the middle. But it's where that old shed is."

Harry rose with a feeling of relief, carelessly bundled the newspapers together, and went out to the sanity of normal people, a garden and hot Summer sunshine.

The Malfoy family was gathered in a climate-controlled area of their own formal gardens. Frionne was feeling thoroughly jealous. She knew it was normal for newly Bonded couples to be enraptured with each other, knew the importance of an heir for House Malfoy, but she didn't like being ignored. Close by were Venetia's twin boys, Albus and Antonius Bulstrode, supervised by their nanny.

She spoke up quite loudly, "You were right, Venetia. They're only publishing nice prophecies. I sent in one I made up, that next Spring a powerful wizard for the light would be born, and it's here in the paper. But the blue swallow one is just not here."

With an effort, Venetia tore her eyes from her new husband, and after a moment's thought, she said, "The blue swallow is to be rescued, isn't it? And then everything will fall apart."

"Pretty much. It was quite long. I know you don't really believe in it, but that one came to me in the night. It's strange, like someone talks to me. A weird voice, full of foreboding." Her voice trailed off, and she shivered, "Something bad is coming."

Draco stood up, his eyes on his newest wife, "Venetia?"

Venetia also stood, eyes locked on those of her Bonded, and together, they headed back to the mansion.

Frionne shook her head angrily. What about _her?_ She hadn't had any contact with her husband since the marriage, and her own Bond was still strong. But she hadn't become pregnant, and men were selfish and impatient. Her hostile gaze went to her stepchildren. Twin boys, eighteen months old, evidence of the fertility of their mother. She detested them. Rumour had it that Venetia had had dozens of offers, almost the moment her husband had been buried.

Fred and George Weasley were also enjoying the Summer sunshine. They lolled at their ease in comfortable chairs, cold drinks in hand. Beside each knelt a naked slave looking at the master with adoring eyes, only wanting to be of service. Four others moved around the gardens, two doing some weeding, and two carefully planting a new tree. They were naked. The Weasleys liked their slaves to be naked except for their collars. Sunburn could make them uncomfortable later, but there was a lotion that would ease the burn, and leave them fit again for the evening's activities.

Fred said casually, and quite loudly, "I feel like using one, George. Which one do you think?"

"Let them fight for it?"

Fred looked at him in surprise, and George gave him a wicked grin.

Fred laughed, and called, "Aristotle, Hobbs, and Plato. You're to attack each other, and the winner can serve me."

The girls watched in horror, but the boys didn't hesitate, throwing themselves into hurting each other in order to have the honour of serving Master Fred. Having devoted slaves had been very bad for the Weasley twins. Michael Davidson, now called Plato, wept in pain when he was used quite mercilessly by each twin in turn, but thought himself honoured. With six sex slaves, there was often competition for the attentions of their masters, but this was the first time the slaves had physically fought for the privilege. Fred did a healing spell on the boy afterwards. They'd developed it themselves after they'd accidentally killed their first boy slave with a spell too strong.

That evening, when the slaves had been dismissed to their own quarters, Fred said thoughtfully, "I'm becoming a little tired of the joke shop."

"It's very profitable."

"Not so much since the Ministry stuck their nose in."

"It wasn't our fault the woman had a heart attack."

"No, but I was thinking we should branch out."

"Slaves?"

"It'd be fun, wouldn't it?"

"Not that much fun. Customers invariably want virgins."

"I wonder if there's land available near Albuston. We'll need space, and we can't have it where women might see."

"I hate to think what Mum would say."

"Or Ginny. She'd be horrified."

"No reason why they should ever find out, of course."

Their preparations included a trip to France to see Mssr. Laroche. Laroche had retired once slavery was abolished in the Sudlan, but would have still preferred to keep his secrets to himself. He was not given the choice, but afterwards the memory of giving away his secrets was very blurred. He knew there had been a theft, but was unclear who were the culprits. He felt himself a little old for fights, and thought it best to make no accusations.

It took a little while for the twins to set themselves up to their satisfaction, a spacious area near Albuston. By Christmas, they had a selection to offer to their customers. Their standards were high, each slave the prettiest they could lay their hands on. Like Mssr. Laroche, with each purchase, they issued the small booklet which detailed the half-dozen spells that could be used on Muggles without harming them. They didn't add the recently invented healing spell. That was to be their secret. But there was a version of the Imperius Spell, a version of the Cruciatus, and a few others to enfeeble or paralyse.

Their advertising was discreet, but word spread among the wealthy. Such high quality goods were not cheap. There was some competition from the Nadlan slave-shops, who dropped their prices, hoping to put the upstarts out of business. Fred and George made a visit to the Nadlan. They were young, quick and had an excellent communication between them. They were a very effective team. Afterwards, no-one but themselves knew the secrets of the slave-spells.

Within a few months, their profits were sufficient that they sold their home near London, and had a new home built for themselves. There was a designated slave wing, as the old Manors had, plus a generous working area complete with a large cage. It was an inconvenience that so few spells were suitable for Muggles. They planned to do some experimentation.

***chapter end***


	21. Chapter 21

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: The boys of Kreighley Beach include Kevin Stern, who has Muscular Dystrophy, and his brothers, Larry and Warren._

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Note that this is a story for adults. Young people could find some of the content disturbing. **_

_**Chapter 21**_

_******__**A Year On**__******_

Another year passed quickly for Harry and Sarah. They were busy and contented, and very happy with each other. Harry scarcely glanced at the wizard newspapers these days though he'd noticed the American one was no longer available, and the Quibbler had also ceased production.

He was at a funfair, sitting beside Kevin Stern in his wheelchair. Kevin pointed, "Jack and Tom. And I see they've got Hoks in trouble as well." Ross was looking furious, striding along, the three boys hurrying to keep up. Jack and Tom were not looking much daunted, but the other boy looked utterly miserable. Kevin said, "They're expert pickpockets, though after the last three weeks punishment, I'm surprised they tried it again."

"Hoks?"

"Leith Hoskins. He only came a few weeks ago. He does anything people ask him to do. He's a bit of a fool."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"He doesn't come near me. I think it's because I'm a cripple. Some people are like that."

"I guess."

"I'll have Ryan talk to him. He's sort of leader, like."

"He's one of the ones hoping to go to Uni, isn't he?"

"Larry is too." Larry was Kevin's older brother.

"You'll miss him."

"The boss asked if I wanted to go when I was old enough. He said that special arrangements can be made, but there's really no point. I'm comfortable at home. Warren and Larry will have to make their own lives, not worry about me. Anyway, they're allowed to stay in their rooms with me as long as I'm at Kreighley, so they'll be with me at holiday times, weekends whenever they want."

Aaron Bates returned with an ice-cream for each of them, and Kevin nodded his thanks. Aaron was now a paid full-time carer for Kevin, though aside from a short course at the local technical college, plus a 'How to lift safely' training day at the Falmouth hospital, he had no actual training. It wasn't difficult, just a matter of helping with showers and dressing. Kevin could still manage to stand, barely, but was quite rapidly deteriorating. He was sixteen.

The gossip was general for a bit as they ate their ice-creams, and then there was a loudspeaker announcement that anyone missing their wallets should go to the Steward's tent.

"I knew it," said Kevin, "And I bet they had Hoks holding them for him." He glanced at Aaron, and said, "I want to talk to Lee for a bit, Aaron. Would you mind making yourself scarce?"

Aaron nodded obediently, glanced at Harry, and left.

Harry asked, "Is there something you wanted?"

"Aaron told me you were at Kreighley yourself. That was before he knew it was supposed to be secret, because someone was after you."

"I've relaxed a lot these last couple of years. I doubt if I'm in danger any more just because I choose to help out now and then."

"It's just..."

Kevin came to a dead stop, and Harry said slowly, "Ross told me there are funds for you, whatever you need. Things to make your life easier."

"There will come a time... I hoped that laws would be changed, so that when I've had enough, I can finish it. Instead, they're making it harder and harder."

Harry said nothing, and Kevin said in a low voice, "I can't stand the thought of being totally helpless. I want to die before that happens."

"There is a suicide drug, as I understand. But if you don't want to implicate anyone else in a crime, you'd have to do it before you're ready to die, and that would be a shame. You're an asset to Kreighley. Look what you've done for Paul and Staffy."

"If you were taken by those people, couldn't get away, and they did awful things to you, you'd want to die, wouldn't you?"

Harry acknowledged, "If I were helpless to get away, I would prefer death to the humiliation."

Kevin looked away, "I don't like asking for help. The boss wouldn't dare help me, and I don't want my friends in trouble. But you could do it."

"I know a nurse with unusual methods. When I first heard about you, I asked if she could help you. She said not. Her methods just don't work on ordinary people. And anyway, she'd never heard of Muscular Dystrophy. She treats a different sort of people you see? Can you keep a very important secret, Kevin?"

"Are you going to tell me the big mystery? Who you really are?"

"Part of it, but it's dangerous to know."

Kevin laughed, "Dangerous! I don't think it matters to me, does it?" Kevin rarely allowed his bitterness to show, but he was only human, and he'd had a raw deal in life.

Aaron was hovering at a distance, and when he saw Ross approaching, put himself in his way, saying gruffly, "They're talking."

Ross glanced at the pair, and nodded. Lee, Ricky as he'd been, had sometimes worked miracles with his boys, though he never seemed to actually do much. He'd been helping out quite a bit this past year, and all the boys knew him. He said, "We're taking Jack, Tom and Leith home, and we'll return for everyone else. Just spread the word, would you?"

"What did they do?"

"A dozen wallets in the sample bag that Leith was holding. They'd promised him 10%."

"I'll pass it around."

Ross cast one more glance at Harry and Kevin, and strode to where the bus waited with three boys, one of them miserably repentant, two merely regretting that they'd been caught.

Harry cautioned Kevin, "You have to keep it very quiet, not just for yourself. The thing is that if there's a war between the species, it would be disastrous for normal humans and for Anirage."

Kevin asked in a curious tone, "Are you mad by any chance?"

Harry laughed, but he'd reddened, "Not mad. It's just a bit difficult to know how to tell you. But I can help you, and without you feeling as if you have to do something even one minute before you want to."

"That's the problem, see? If I wait until it's time, then I'm already past the time when I can help yourself."

"Swear to tell no-one?"

"I'll swear anything if you can help me," and then solemnly, a hand across his chest, "I swear that I will not divulge the secrets of Lee Chase."

"I've told my wife, not Ross, nor any of the Chases."

"Tell me."

Harry took a deep breath. It was such a matter of habit to keep silent about himself. He started, "There are a sub-species of humans living among us. We are Anirage. When I was a little younger than you, I made a lot of enemies, and ran away from them. I am Anirage, not exactly human as you are human."

Kevin had one eyebrow raised in a very sceptical look.

Harry held out a hand, "Look."

Kevin looked, and suddenly there was a little fire burning in the centre of Harry's palm. Harry continued, "Anirage can work magic. It's why I was so afraid of being found. They have weapons that ordinary people don't have."

Kevin still stared at the fire, and queried, "Magic?"

"Remember I told you that the Aniragi nurse I spoke to said that magic could not cure ordinary people. I asked her years ago, when Ross told me about you."

"You can't help me then."

"When it's time, I can help you die, easily and painlessly. Even if you can no longer speak, I can know what you're thinking. You can give me instructions even if you're entirely helpless. Knowing this, you may want to live longer. Even when you're helpless, you help the boys here. I've seen it."

"Do the fire again?"

Harry showed him again, and Kevin shook his head, "It's just a trick, I know it is. Like Donna who says I should accept God's will and trust in his ultimate goodness." His voice had taken on a distinct tone of irony.

Harry said, "They shouldn't have a Councillor who's too religious. If there is a God, he can be far too cruel. But I'll show you something else if you like. Only that it has to be inconspicuous."

"Um... Turn your hand green?"

Harry glanced around, but no-one appeared to be watching aside from Aaron, still hovering out of earshot. Even so, he turned his back to Aaron before turning his hand green, and then, briefly, his face.

"If you can do that, why did you bother disguising yourself? Tell me that."

"Modifications to appearance don't last very long, though I could have changed hair colour. The thing is that the Aniragi world thinks I don't have magic any more, because of something they did to me, so I take no chances that they'll find out."

Kevin still stared at him, "Yet you told me, and you can help me."

"I can help you."

"It won't be for a while, maybe years."

"I will not lose touch, and when it comes time, I will help you."

For a moment, Kevin's voice quavered, "It won't hurt?"

Harry's voice was also a little unsteady as he answered, "It will not hurt."

Kevin still stared at him, still not quite believing. He asked, "Can you tell what I'm thinking?"

"If I try. I don't usually try."

"I'll think of something then, and you're to tell me what I'm thinking of."

Harry said easily, "The ferris wheel," but he'd felt more than that from Kevin. The hope and the remaining fear that it could not be true. The fear of being tricked into living helpless, the fear of becoming a vegetable. He said, "Think of that famous physicist. His body might be a wreck, but he's never lost his intellect." He moved his hand, and it turned red, then yellow, then purple, before returning to normal. He said, steadily now, "You can rely on me, Kevin. I will not let you down. There is the remote possibility that I could be killed, but even then, I will organise that someone else will look after you in the way you want."

"Someone else?"

"Just as a backup. No-one's going to kill me, but insurance is a good policy." He had Hermione in mind, who was a good person as well as a qualified Healer. He felt sure that Hermione would be willing to help. Or Severus, though he wasn't sure about Severus. He didn't think that Severus cared about Muggles, and anyway, he lived in France. Maybe Poppy.

That evening, there was another party at Kreighley beach. Kevin was the instigator, Aaron and Larry the suppliers of alcohol. There was no problem, the tide was well out, and Ross chose to pretend he didn't know. He hadn't missed the hilarious good spirits of Kevin. He'd been worrying about Kevin.

_hphphphp_

The small group of Muggle-borns strolled Hyde Park in London. On each of their wrists was a quite narrow band of brown leather, made impervious to interference. The wrist-bands incorporated tracking spells and anti-disapparation spells. They'd been administered without the option after a close call with uniformed Muggles apparently trying to access Diagon Alley. It had taken some urgent work to convince them that there was nothing there. The crisis had been blamed on the Muggle-born, Ted Tonks. Now all Muggle-borns were monitored quite closely. At one time, any incoming Muggle Prime Minister had been informed of the magical world, but that had been stopped years before.

This was a meeting of AMBA. They liked to meet outside these days. No-one knew of any magic capable of watching them when indoors just as long as they were not foolish enough to have magical portraits, but they still felt more free to talk when in the open air. They always called them social meetings, and took care to have events like cake competitions, knitting exhibitions, and little quiz contests, with small and harmless prizes. There were no male members. Some had disappeared, the same as Ted Tonks, and others thought it too risky to continue being a part of it. The women were apparently deemed a lesser risk, as their small club was allowed to continue.

Hermione was a little away from the others, talking to a half-sister, another of Dumbledore's byblows. Greta was thirty, and as clever as Hermione, though without the same frantic need to excel. She had red hair with a gentle wave in it, quite beautiful. The hair colour was the reason her parents were divorced. Her father had refused to believe that a red-headed child could be his, and the suspicion had poisoned the marriage.

Greta asked, "Have you been forced to take a drop in pay yet?"

"Not exactly. But quite a few patients notice the wrist-band and request a different Healer. I may not last."

"I've had to move in with Lisa. We can cope with the rent if we share."

"Space for three?"

"If you need to."

"Maybe not yet. But it's getting worse."

Greta said bitterly, "The three of us, sisters, treated dreadfully, unable to escape, and yet our _sire_ is still revered as the greatest wizard of our modern age."

Hermione said, "There's only three female members left of the Wizemgamot. Did you know that?"

"It's not just Muggle-borns, they're reducing the power of anyone female."

"They wouldn't dare take our vote. Would they?"

"Trevor showed me something the other day. Would you like to see?" Trevor was Greta's fiancé, almost twenty years older than herself, but there were not many takers for a Mudblood. Trevor was Half-blood, so it would be a rise in status for her.

"What is it?"

"When the flower quiz is over, come with me to Nocturne Alley? I'll show you."

"Just me?"

"You know it would be unwise for all of us to go together."

One of the group around a flower garden raised a decorated bell, and shook it. There was a pretty tinkle, and a quiet watcher not very far away, yawned. Just a harmless group of women, not really worth worrying about in spite of the furious objections when they'd had the wristbands put on. Probably if the wrist-bands had been dainty and decorated, they would have accepted them without a murmur. He didn't follow when they dispersed.

Nocturne Alley was not the cheerful place that Diagon Alley was, but it was far from the dark and dangerous place it had once been. With no powerful dark wizards to keep in check, the Aurors were able to ensure that not much happened that was against the current law of the Wizemgamot.

Hermione and Greta were ignored as they passed an attractive shop window of a jeweller, a potions ingredients supplier, three bookshops all in a row, that had both women hesitating before deciding they couldn't afford more books, and then they came to a shop marked only with a small picture of three youths, nude, classical Greek style. Hermione cast a puzzled look at Greta, who was looking grim. Greta said, "Barnabus Cuffe used to be the editor of the Daily Prophet. He left after the Ministry took it over. Then this, started a few months ago. Trevor told me. We're going in."

"What is it?"

"Slaves, Hermione. Muggle slaves for perverted old men!" Firmly she pushed open the door and walked in. They were in quite a large room, almost empty except for a gleaming desk in the corner. A bell was ringing but both women were inspecting the pictures on the walls, all of young girls and boys. Hermione glanced back at the door where it had closed behind them, and saw a picture of Harry from a couple of years ago, dressed in a formal robe, and looking stern.

A man shambled in and paused, raising his eyebrows. Greta said, "I understand you deal in slaves. May we see some?"

The man raised an eyebrow, "For yourselves, ladies? We only have young ones you understand. I can do a special order if you like of course."

"What sort of order?"

The man's eyes swept them up and down, though not seeing the wrist-bands under the long, fitted sleeves of both women, "A virile young stud, maybe? A strapping young man to keep you satisfied? Or is it a girl you'd like? A nice little maiden to wait upon you."

Hermione had not yet said a word, trying not to show her horror. Greta asked, "If we had a young man, what would stop him turning on us? Or just leaving for that matter?"

"No fear of that. He would adore you, only want to please you."

"How much?"

"A special order, with the slave spells? 9,250 Galleons."

"A little expensive. Do you have anything cheaper?"

"The slave spells are what makes it dear, but you couldn't count on controlling even a Muggle man without them, no matter how much you punish."

"A young girl then, with just the collar to punish."

"Normally 5,000, but I do have something special. Very obedient, and only 1250 Galleons. Just fifteen. Not a virgin of course, for that money."

"We do not require a virgin."

"Would you like to see her?"

Greta said, "It's to be a present for an uncle. It's not for myself or my friend. Do you have this girl available?"

Hermione was beginning to overcome her shock, but still felt quite ill. She asked, "Could we see a selection if you please? Whatever you have?"

The man tilted his head to the side, surveying them suspiciously, but then shrugged, "Come with me, then."

There were seven altogether, girls and boys between the ages of twelve and fifteen, each with a collar, and wearing only silken long pants, sheer enough to see they wore nothing underneath. Harry had worn one of those garments once, though not for long. The girl pointed out as the cheap one had a bruise on the side of her face, but smiled at them, trying and failing to be coquettish. Her breasts were bare, but she showed no shame, though one of the others did. She looked to be about twelve, her breasts only beginning to develop. Maybe she was still very new. They were all attractive, but so young.

Hermione looked away, shocked to the core. Greta asked, "The bruise?"

"She's had anti-bruising lotion, but it never works very well on Muggles. And only use the listed spells in the owner's booklet. They're too fragile for most spells. They're not like us."

"Did you bruise her?"

"Don't be silly. Would I damage my own merchandise? As long as they're obedient, they're treated like little princes and princesses."

A boy of around thirteen cast the man a very cynical look, which luckily he didn't notice. The rest ignored the comment, most just staring into the distance. Hermione asked, "Are they under the influence of any spells at the moment?"

There was a ring at the door, and he firmly ushered the women toward the exit, saying, "Well, get in touch with me if you make up your minds," and then he was fawning over an elderly gentleman who looked too old to have any use for sex slaves. There were virility potions, of course.

Greta was still looking back, but followed Hermione who was walking very fast, fuming. That children should be used like that. They were just children! Slavery belonged in the dark ages. Even being in possession of a slave collar was against the law. Wasn't it?

When Greta caught up, she said decidedly, "We'll go to the Aurors. That shop has to be closed, Cuffe arrested. That hideous old man too."

"The man was Craddock Shunpike. He's head of a Pure-blood family. A pair of Mudbloods have no chance against any of them."

"My name is Carlyle. It still has some influence."

Greta said sceptically, "Really?"

"Well, a little."

"The thing is we must not go to the Aurors. Any excuse and they'll arrest us. Or worse."

"Justin Finch-Fletchley. He was questioned for three days only because he was suspected of knowing where Harry Potter is."

"Do you know where he lives, Hermione?"

"Why would he trust me with that? I'm the one who made him take the Cerlikh Potion."

Greta turned to her, stunned, "You did? Why?"

"Harry always said I believed too much in the teachers, or in adults. The headmaster said, and so I did what he said. I didn't know of course. I was told he was just to be bait, that he'd never be touched."

"It gave us a few years free of the threat of Voldemort. But now we're just as badly off as we would have been if he'd won."

"Voldemort could never have become so powerful if he hadn't been speaking the common view. But getting back to the slaves..."

"You could write to your Carlyle relatives, at least the female ones."

"Maybe. I could try. I might ask Anthea."

"Anthea?"

"Anthea Jones, Senior Healer now, and my immediate supervisor. She's Mixed Blood, I think. She's kind. Nice. I think she'd listen, and maybe at least ask the Aurors about it."

"There's one over there, watching us. Do you think we'd better buy something, just to cover our tracks?"

Without a word, Hermione turned into a bookshop. She didn't expect to buy anything. She mostly read Muggle books these days, usually sourced at a library.

The Auror made a brief note, that Hermione Carlyle and Greta Drysdale had been shopping, seen to have gone into Flourish and Botts. The pictures of all the remaining single Mudbloods were prominent on the Auror Department walls. They didn't bother as much with the married ones, and the ones with children. They were deemed to be more thoroughly integrated into the wizarding world, and thus less of a risk. Eighty-three of them remaining, twenty-seven living in London. Some had disappeared into Muggle society, others were living in France where their kind was tolerated, and a few had been treated with a thorough obliviation, and then abandoned close to a mental hospital. Sonya, widow of Vance McKenzie, had been one of those. There were others who'd been found dead. Vanstone had a feeling that Gumboil might have had something to do with that. Gumboil was a Hit-wizard. No death notification was published for those, though no attempt had been made to stop the gossip spreading. It did no harm for the Mudbloods to know to be very careful.

When Hermione told Anthea that there was a slave-shop trading openly on Nocturne Alley, she wasn't believed at first, and Hermione had to give details.

Anthea at last nodded, tears in her eyes, "Children, you said. I know there was a fuss a few years ago, but I never quite believed it. It was the Daily Prophet."

"It is fact that the Weasleys tried to sell Harry Potter as a slave."

"I guess." Anthea checked her schedule, and at last said, "I'll drop in at the Ministry straight after work. Owl you with the results."

Hermione waited expectantly that evening, sitting at the table. She rarely had any mail, except for deliberately innocuous notes from fellow AMBA members. When finally a small owl flew to her, she impatiently grabbed at the letter, earning herself a sharp peck. She apologised even as she was tearing open the letter. It was brief, _'It is illegal to ill-treat a slave, defined as deliberate torture for amusement, it is illegal to allow a slave to escape, but it is not illegal to keep a slave, or trade in slaves. I was told it was better to keep quiet about it, that it was not a suitable subject for women to discuss.'_

Hermione carefully folded the letter, put it aside, dropped her head onto her arms, and sobbed. The owl scratched its head, decided there were no treats pending, and flew back out the window.

***chapter end***


	22. Chapter 22

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Vayden Carlyle was married to Hermione and Tracey. Vayden's parents are Tonius and Julia. *Anirage are wizards, and an Aniragia is a Wizarding area. * The Cerlikh Catastrophe is when Voldemort was killed, along with 317 Death Eaters. The Dementors also disappeared at that time. The Cerlikh Ceremony was intended to allow Voldemort to steal Harry's power, but instead, Harry acquired power, knowledge and memories from Voldemort. * The Samhein Disaster is the occasion when 13 young women and two men died during a traditional Aniragi ceremony. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 22**_

Julia Carlyle was a little sorry for her former daughter-in-law, sometimes even wished for her back. She tried to take notice of little Reginald, but it was out of duty, while Hermione had loved him. And anyway, she was too old to cope with a two-year-old. When she saw that the letter was from Hermione, she tucked it away to read later. Tonius was with her, reading a newspaper. He wouldn't like her being in touch with the Mudblood. Lauris, the new wife, sat at his feet, staring at him adoringly. It had been almost a year since she'd been Bonded to him, a particularly strong, if one-sided Bond, but there was still no sign of a pregnancy.

Julia asked that evening, in a carefully casual voice, "Tonius, I've heard a rumour that there's a slave shop in the London Aniragia. That can't be true, can it?"

Tonius looked up from his meal, frowning, "In the Aniragia? I certainly hope not."

"But slaves?"

"There were several slaves who'd been confiscated from their owners some years ago. It was thought it was better to change the law than to put down the slaves for no reason. They are human, after all, even if not like us."

"But for a shop, there must be new slaves being taken, mustn't there?"

Tonius said firmly, "It is not a matter to be discussed at the dinner table, and not a matter to be discussed by women in any event."

Julia dropped her eyes back to her meal. When she'd been a child, her mother had rebuked her for even mentioning a pair of children she'd seen once. It had been from a broomstick, and she'd looked down at a small garden area, locked off from the rest of the garden. They'd been just sitting, and then the boy had waved. She'd been in trouble afterwards, not just for asking about the children, not much older than herself, but for venturing from the area laid out for flying, an area where protective spells would come into force if she fell.

When she'd been a little older, her mother had told her seriously that there were some things that must never be mentioned, among them Muggle slaves. That probably her own husband would have a few later on in life. That ladies simply didn't notice such things. But then she learned that slavery was strictly illegal, and assumed it was unlikely. Her father had been a cold and formidable man, great uncle to the present Van Malfoy. He'd probably simply ignored the laws that didn't suit him, while Tonius was a good husband, who worked hard to maintain the law.

The Malfoys were so few now, only Draco left, plus a few distant cousins who lived within the Nadlan. Both her parents had died early, and she had no siblings.

So many of the great families had declined. The Ryans were wiped out, and the Parkinsons as well. The Ogdens were gone, and the Crouches. Was this renewed interest in Muggle slaves a symptom of the decline?

She had lunch with a few friends the following day, mentioned it, and provoked an indignant tirade from Andrea Pettit, "My son's wives both dead, and all he can think about is his new toys. It's his duty to take a new wife and sire another son, and he won't _see_ it."

"There is an heir though, isn't there?"

"One, Kryall, not even two years old. But if something happens to him, then it goes to a Mixed-blood from an off-shoot of the family. A Mixed-blood can't be Vanie!"

Nerrissa Brooks spoke, another widow. There were a lot of widows among the Vanie families since they'd tried to take Harry Potter as a slave, "We should get slavery banned again. It does us no good."

"My son said that we have to fight against the erosion of our traditions."

"Did he use that to justify slavery?"

"I didn't know slavery was legal again. I don't think he has any."

"Any parts of the house barred to you?"

The Kent widow hesitated, and then acknowledged, "There have always been parts of the house banned to females."

"We should talk to our husbands. All of us. Put pressure on them. It is an erosion of our civilised standards, as well as reducing the inclination of our men to sire heirs. There are not enough children."

"The Cerlikh Catastrophe, but it seems like the deaths hardly stopped. So many have died."

"The Samhein Disaster," and a few of the women looked accusingly at Julia, who'd tolerated a Mudblood in her home.

Julia said quietly, "Eighteen murders at a Vanie meeting, and it was never solved."

"_Could_ there be a new Dark Lord gaining power?"

"Surely we'd know by now. Certainly our husbands would know."

There was increasing agitation over the next few weeks, and some of the Vanie husbands began to look a little stressed. Others simply bought a new slave, and spent more time in their private quarters, away from nagging wives. Word filtered down to the lesser members of wizardry, and every single member of the Wizemgamot was feeling the pressure. When they voted on the Minister's proposition, the result was overwhelming. From now on, no woman was eligible to be a member of the Wizemgamot, and no woman was eligible to vote.

The women were furious. A few left their husbands, others demonstrated, and some tried to punish their husbands by withdrawing bedroom rights. That was the least effective strategy. Any husband who could afford it, simply invested in a slave. Second-hand ones were quite cheap, and of course, they could always just abduct a pretty Muggle girl off the street. Even the slave-collar was optional. There were other ways of punishing.

The change in the slavery laws had never been reported, but Harry raised his eyebrows when he saw the news of the latest change, thinking of Hermione's utter fury. He'd been to see her several times, but each time backing off when he noticed quiet watchers close. He gave up the idea of asking her to act as backup for Kevin, instead he worried about his old friend. Finally, he approached the watching Auror, used his own magic to tell him to go away for half an hour, and then to forget that he'd left his post, and presented Hermione with a large bag of wizard gold, and also Muggle pounds. It looked to him like Hermione needed to escape.

Hermione was grateful, worried, distracted, and told him urgently to leave and not be seen. There had been nothing she'd heard, but he should not be seen. It didn't occur to her to ask him for help. He had no magic, and should just keep right away from all wizards.

She went to Anthea afterwards, who only nodded when Hermione told her she was leaving, and added, "You're our best Healer, but I understand."

"Healer Smethwyck putting on the pressure?"

"That success you had with the boy last week... He seems to think that if you were using Muggle knowledge to heal him, he might have been better dead."

"The parents didn't think so."

"It's a pity it wasn't a Pettit or a Malfoy, one of the powerful families."

"The Ministry won't allow Muggle-borns to go to the Sudlan to work, but there's a position open at Durmstrang for a school nurse."

"A nurse?"

"I think Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts knew as much as most of the Healers here."

Anthea smiled, "That woman could work miracles."

There was a goodbye gathering for Hermione. She'd earned the respect of her co-workers, though even Anthea knew it was not a good idea to be seen with a Mudblood. Hermione used the opportunity to sterilise every male there, and most of the women. She hadn't attacked her co-workers before, but she did now. If she had her way, Wizardkind would be no more.

Madam Hermione Carlyle took up her position in the Hospital Wing of Durmstrang three days before school resumed for the year. She only had a smattering of German, but the teaching in both the major European schools was in Aniragi, which every wizard was expected to learn at their parents' knees, and which Hermione had taught herself in the final years of school. She still wore the wrist band that prevented her apparating, and it still contained the tracking spells. The Nadlan Ministry thought it an excellent idea, though there were hardly any Muggle-borns in those countries that made up the Northern Alliance.

Hermione was meek, smiled a lot, and requested that the headmaster permit her to do a routine health check on every new student at the start of the year, and also on the older ones, maybe year by year. Karkaroff was distant, but not rude, given the trouble he'd had getting a school nurse. He showed her to her quarters, then to the ill equipped hospital wing. When he turned his back to leave, Hermione slipped her wand from the wrist holster and aimed. By the end of the year, not a man, woman or child of Durmstrang would be capable of having children.

_hphphphp_

Poppy Pomfrey was arranging potions ready for start of term when she heard a small sound. She turned questioningly, and squeaked in surprise when she found Harry approaching her, grinning. She promptly flew into scolding mode, "What are you doing here? Don't you know it's dangerous for you?"

Harry straightened up, a little surprised, "Surely it's not that dangerous. Professor McGonnagal's in charge, isn't she? And I _am_ supposed to be Protected by the Ministry."

"Minerva has left, and I get questioned every now and then whether I've seen Harry Potter, or do I know where he lives. They want you."

"There's always been those who want to kill me, ever since Cerlikh."

"This is the Ministry. Things have changed, Harry."

Harry looked at her glumly, and then shrugged, "I guess I'd best be going then."

"Harry... It's good to see you, and to see you looking so good. Just that you shouldn't be here."

Poppy looked at the door, and Harry followed her eyes. A man he'd never seen before, but looked familiar. Voldemort's memory, and the name came to him, Slughorn. Professor Slughorn. Potions expert and Slytherin House Master. But the man was beaming, even holding his arms wide, expansively, "Ha- a- a- rry! Haaarry Potter! To think I'm finally meeting you.' And then he found his hand being vigorously shaken, "It's a real honour. The one who defeated the Dark Lord. Twice! He was after me, you know, but I didn't want to belong to him. I was his teacher once! Bright, he was. But evil. Even when he was just a child, he was evil."

Harry's hand was still being pumped, but by this time he'd gathered himself, and was scanning Slughorn's thoughts. It appeared that he was quite safe, Slughorn honestly delighted to meet him.

Poppy said, "Harry, this is Professor Slughorn. He is our new headmaster you know."

"It was thought more suitable, you see, with the changes."

Poppy said dryly, "Minerva did an excellent job, but they're not allowing any woman to hold a position of power any more."

Slughorn still beamed, "Women are too precious to us to be worried by politics." And without a pause, "Join me in my office and we'll have some morning tea."

Harry said, "I do have enemies, Professor. I'm happy to join you just as long as you don't tell anyone until I'm safely away."

"Of course not. No-one's here anyway. Sybil Trelawney, and Hagrid, probably playing with his spiders or something. Just me, and Poppy of course."

Harry smiled at the nurse, "It's good to see you. You're looking well."

"I'll be retiring soon. I've spent enough of my life looking after school children."

"You were very good to me."

Poppy muttered, "Not good enough," but Harry was already being firmly ushered out.

Poppy shook her head, and went back to arranging potions.

Harry couldn't avoid the gossip session with Slughorn, but there was no hint that the fat man wanted to harm him, and after a while, he began to be very interested. Slughorn, 'Call me Horace,' was full of light and amusing gossip, of real value to Harry. After a time, Harry began to feel that the man might be a little stupid. He boasted about his contacts, but Harry knew a great deal of how their world worked, and noticed the lack of names of those who held the real power. Gwenog Jones, captain of a Quidditch team? She was hardly a person of importance, and nor was Ambrosius Flume, whether or not he sent Slughorn candy on his birthday.

Every now and then he had to fend off questions about where and how he lived, but Slughorn was easily distracted by appeals to his vanity, and Harry learned a great deal that he hadn't known. Unrest among the women, demonstrations in the Ministry Atrium, 'Molly Weasley is the ringleader, I hear, though I wouldn't have expected it of her, such a dear lady,' that there was a shortage of Healers, as several female Healers had emigrated, that there were to be separate Defence classes for male and female students, 'Some things are just not suitable for females, you know,' but when Harry asked for details, he waffled off into vague generalities.

Slughorn was reluctant to let him go, but Harry was beginning to be uneasy. What if the portrait headmasters gossiped to others away from Hogwarts for instance? Even the ghosts could spread the word, though he hadn't seen any so far.

On the way out, Sybil Trelawney appeared, stared at him, and then nodded, "Child of Light, Child of Night, Child of Might. You are not evil, Child of Light."

Harry nodded politely, and said, "Professor Trelawny." He took no notice of what she'd said. She'd always been batty, that one. Slughorn didn't take any notice either, even as she started to moan to herself about 'Coming Night,' and 'Silent Creeping Death.'

Harry wanted a discreet exit, though Slughorn didn't seem to want to leave him. Harry remembered the man's girth, stretched his legs a little, and Slughorn stopped, puffing, took an effusive leave, and started returning to the castle, walking a lot slower than when he was trying to keep up with Harry.

Once away from the new Hogwarts Headmaster, Harry cloaked himself in a 'Don't Notice Me' spell until he reached his car, parked behind some trees out of sight. He'd used magic for that as well, vanishing a couple of bushes and a young tree that had been in his way. He breathed his relief when his car turned into a busy road some distance from Hogwarts. Away free, and he'd been lucky. Poppy's warning had been too heartfelt. So what about Kevin? Why did the Muggle authorities make it so difficult to end your life when it was time? Harry thought it must be the one thing in which they were less civilised than Anirage.

His car was an inconspicuous dark blue, and with a fairly standard shape. But it was an Alfa Romeo, with a great deal of power under the bonnet. It was like other things, - he didn't know whether he'd ever need the power, but it was good to have, just like his skills at picking locks and hot-wiring or disabling cars. He and Sarah had three cars now, all exactly the same. The number-plates were charmed to appear the same except on close inspection, and there was a charm so that policemen didn't notice them. It didn't work on speed cameras though, and Harry had paid a couple of fines for speeding. Travelling by car just seemed so slow.

Two evenings later, Horace Slughorn was waiting for the best time to announce that Harry Potter had visited him. He did so like dropping names. It was a quite small dinner party at the home of one of the school governors, Ledlie Vanden, one who'd inherited the position of Vanie after Harry killed his father. There were two other of the young Vanie there as well, plus a few older men, all Pure-blood. There were no women present, and no women left on the Board of Governors.

The comment was interpolated between dessert and cigars, "Harry Potter visited me the other day. I guess he'd heard I have influence. He was a little afraid of enemies you know. I assured him he was quite safe of course. Protected and all that."

Vanden exclaimed, "You had him in your _power_, and you let him free?"

One of the older men, Heroditus Smethwyck, frowned at Vanden, and said more mildly, "He's wanted for questioning by the Aurors. I guess you didn't know. And his Protected status was rescinded when he murdered those men at Albuston."

Slughorn was puzzled, "But wasn't that self-defence? And I'm sure it was never announced that his Protected status was rescinded."

"Robards wants to talk to him, but says he won't show himself. He's strongly suspected of causing other deaths as well, you know. Five other wizards all killed with Muggle weapons, and two witches restrained and raped. Their descriptions match Harry Potter."

Slughorn looked around bewildered, "I never would have guessed. He seemed such a nice boy."

Lannock Abercrombie was the oldest man there. He was the great-uncle of the infant who would eventually be the Abercrombie Vanie, was on the Wizemgamot, as well as on the Boards of Governors of both Hogwarts, both prisons, and St. Mungo's. He said, "Well, if he shows himself again, restrain him and call me. I will take it from there."

Another said, "I'm disappointed in you, Horace. I thought you would have had better judgement."

Slughorn shook his head, "Now I think of it, he did have a shifty appearance. And he was very eager to get away."

"Well, now you know why."

"He came to see Poppy Pomfrey, you know. Maybe there was something wrong with him."

"Pomfrey? The nurse?" and another asked, "Did he give you any hint of where he lives, Horace?"

"No, he didn't. Very suspicious, that is. If he calls again, I'll advise you, of course."

Only once Slughorn was out of the way did Abercrombie ask, "Lannock? Those murders you spoke of? And the rapes?"

"There have been murders, but none by Muggle weapon that I know of. And witches don't get raped. Why should they? Muggles are so easy."

"My grandson did some reckoning not long ago. He said that twenty-three members of our family have died as a direct result of the actions of Harry Potter. It offends me that he still lives."

Poppy wasn't surprised when Aurors came to question her, though she was distressed and furious when she was detained for three days and the interrogations came at any time of the day or night.

Once released, she fled to France, and Hogwarts was without a school nurse.

***chapter end***


	23. Chapter 23

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Wallace Pettit is the Ministry employee in charge of the Hall of Prophecies and one of the less important members of House Pettit_

_Acknowledgement__s: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. *'The Protector Prophecy' is by fanfiction author, Iseriad. _

_**Chapter 23**_

Wallace Pettit leaned back in his chair, feet on his desk, and read a book. It was a thriller, a Muggle book, one demanding not too much effort. There was no point in expending too much effort. Bad things were coming, and what had come to be known as 'the Changes' were only speeding the process. He had three discontented female assistants now. It was a long tradition that Aurors were entitled to well-paid positions at the Ministry as long as they wanted, even if they were injured, or failed the annual fitness tests. There was nothing wrong with these three women, only that with the change of policy, it was deemed unsuitable that women be in a position of authority over males, therefore no women Aurors.

They were at a table, one reading a book, as he was himself, and two sorting reports of prophecies into separate piles. One remarked, "They're almost unanimous, condemning the changes, saying we've brought doom onto us all."

The one reading the book said casually, "It's the bastard men who've brought doom to us all, Sue. And there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

The other two glanced at their supervisor, who only remarked, "If there's any contributions by men condemning the changes, I want to see them. Otherwise, only if it's by Granny Abbot, Luna Lovegood, or Aurora Vane, who's actually a man."

"Those are the ones you think are true Seers?"

"That's right."

Gloria said casually, "Luna Lovegood has left Britain, and probably won't be back. I was talking to her not long ago." Gloria was tall and athletic, dark-skinned, with a strong, muscular build. Half-blood. Blood status was a part of a person's identity these days, in a way that it had not been since the 1940s, prior to Dumbledore gaining power.

Sue Vanstone idly scanned another prophecy, _'The conclusive days have come, A sole chance abides, The Protector must decide, His choice shall set the future's path.' _She asked, "Who's the Protector, Wallace? He's mentioned several times."

"If I had the faintest idea, I'd be out pleading with him to do something."

"It says he's our only chance."

Wallace sat up, "Show me."

He looked at the noted prophecy thoughtfully, and said, "By Frionne Malfoy. I've never paid much attention to what she says, but..."

After a moment, Sue prompted, "But?"

"I want anything that mentions the Protector. If there's someone who has the faintest clue what to do, I want to know."

Gloria remarked, "Most men think everything's just fine. My brother's wife has left him, he's bought himself a pair of slaves, and says he's pleased to be rid of her." Her brother had also been an Auror, but now worked as a prison guard.

Barbara remarked, "Cuffe's shop has been closed down. At least the demonstrations achieved that much."

Pettit grunted, "Moved, that's all. It does better business without a tribe of women picketing it." Cuffe's slave shop was now quite close to where the Weasley brothers had their more exclusive 'Exotic Pet Centre.' They had things like leopards, deer and the daintiest of monkeys. A casual visitor would not know they also dealt in human 'pets.' Of their family, so far only Ron knew about the slaves.

Gloria said, "Wallace, sometimes you sound like you're on our side."

"The side of women? I'm on the side of survival. I just don't know where that lies."

"Certainly excluding women from political life won't help."

Pettit shrugged and went back to his book. Muggle books were far better than wizard books, more variety, and better written. It was also an easy way of learning about the Muggle world. He reckoned they might have to live in a Muggle world before long if all those prophecies spoke truth.

Gloria asked tentatively, "The Muggle-born, Wallace. Do you think they should be allowed free?"

"Absolutely not. That's one thing I happen to agree with. They're a risk."

"The Creevey brothers have vanished, without warning, and leaving behind their wives and children, I heard."

"I don't know how. Only a very powerful wizard could break the spells on the wrist-band."

Gloria asked, "Just what are the spells, Wallace?"

"Don't ask me!"

After a silence, Sue asked, "Do you think Harry Potter will marry? His children would probably be powerful wizards."

Barbara said, "He was so cute. I remember him when he was Sorted. He looked terrified, and he really didn't seem to understand why everyone was taking such an interest. I was in 6th year then."

Sue said, "When he was at school after Cerlikh, Grant and I had the job of looking after him for a time. He was attacked by other students, but he only stopped them. He didn't hurt anyone."

"What happened to him?"

"Nothing. It was self-defence."

"He's killed now in self-defence."

Pettit didn't look up from his book, but said seriously, "If you ever spot him, warn him on no account to come near any wizard. I'm pretty sure he's marked for death." He still thought that Harry Potter was a powerful wizard, but maybe if he was left alone, he'd leave them alone.

Gloria nodded, but Sue and Barbara were shocked, "He's Protected!"

Pettit said, "Not any more," and asked, "Someone organise us a morning tea?"

Sue went to the task, but Gloria didn't move. She was a highly trained and very competent Auror, not a tea-lady.

_hphphphp_

Two weeks later, Neville and Ginny Longbottom were ushered into the meeting of the remaining eight members of AMBA. Gloria was with them, Sue and Barbara outside ensuring no-one disturbed them. The Auror who'd been assigned the job of watching them was slumped unconscious in a corner.

Ginny said, "The wrist-bands, Neville. You've got the most power of anyone I've ever known. I can feel it."

Gloria said, "None of us could do it, but Ginny said you might be able to."

"What was the incantation?"

It took three attempts before Greta smiled in absolute delight and cast the despised wrist-band into a corner. Neville worked quickly then, and the other women were freed as well.

By the time the Auror who'd been supposed to be watching the AMBA members revived, the women were long gone. It was the first successful strike by the AA, or 'Active Arm' of the Women's Resistance.

_hphphphp_

Meantime, Harry still hadn't worked out how to ensure that Kevin wasn't forced to stay alive when he wanted to be dead. He needed a backup, but both Hermione and Poppy were out of the picture, and it really seemed far too dangerous to approach any other wizard. There was the suicide drug that the 'Exit' organisation used, and he had already procured some. But if he was out of the picture, who would administer it? He didn't want any of his friends to be charged with murder.

The next time that he visited Kevin, he suggested that they go to the beach. It was not easy to get Kevin down to the beach now that he could no longer walk at all, but there was a rope contraption that allowed two people to lower him in his chair. Kevin had started using a seatbelt during the operation as well, as his hands were no longer strong enough to grip, and the chair was apt to sway. On the sand was a timber footpath, leading to a wider platform. He liked to sit there for hours, sometimes with a book, sometimes just watching the waves.

The waves were crashing in that day, and there was some desultory talk for a while, Harry and Kevin, with Paul and Staffy close. Aaron would come to help when it was time to raise the chair again. When Paul and Staffy wandered off, Harry said, "I needed to talk to you."

Kevin looked at him uneasily, "You're going to say you can't do it, aren't you? You're just like all the others."

"Of course I'll do it. It's what you want. It's just that I couldn't find a backup in case I get killed."

"You're not going to get killed though, right?"

"I certainly hope not. If I can possibly be around, I will be. We might be travelling again, Sarah and I, but we won't be further than Europe, and with E-mail, always within touch."

"What will I do if you can't be here?"

Harry pulled a small box from his pocket. "Inside there's a false bottom. In that, there are two bottles. Each contains a dose of the suicide drug. There are instructions. It's just in case I vanish or die. You shouldn't need it."

Kevin took it tentatively, prodded at the inside of the box until the false bottom lifted up, and inspected the bottles before putting them away again and tucking the box into the pocket on the inside of one of the chair sides. He explained, "It makes me feel better, gives me control, like. It's not that I want to do it now, not for a long time probably, but every day I get a little worse, and I want that option, you know?"

"I'll really try and be here for you."

Kevin grinned, "If the other option is you getting killed, I imagine you'll do your best."

Harry sat on the platform beside him, and observed, "A chair here would be handy."

"The whole thing will probably get washed away with the next storm, but the boss says there's always misbehaving boys, and they can just rebuild it as the next punishment project."

"Jack and Tom?"

"They just won't learn. I had Telly talk to them about Juvy. I thought they should know what will happen if they won't stop thieving."

"I heard they call themselves the blackbirds."

"People think they have to be brothers, but Jack's from the Sudan, arrived as a baby, and Tom's from the West Indies. But they're both black as black, and I think 'blackbirds' has something to do with thieving."

"Blackbirds are also rather cheeky, and seem always cheerful. It's actually quite an apt name for them."

"People like them too much, I think. The boys I mean, not the birds. They're always let off too lightly. I'm afraid they'll get themselves in real trouble one day."

"Are you cold? I can make it warm around you if you like."

"I'd like that." It was not only that Kevin was too thin and susceptible to cold, but that he liked to see Harry use magic. It reassured him, knowing that he was there, and able to really do things that other people couldn't do.

Harry tucked the blanket more securely over Kevin's knees, made a warming spell around him, and sat beside him again. Kevin started talking about the ambitions of the senior boys, and then about Tom and Jack again, and the troubles they were causing.

More boys came, most of them scooting straight down the cliff, scorning the steps as for 'pansies,' - _girls_. A fight broke out, and Kevin said casually, "That's been brewing for weeks. They're always sniping at each other."

Harry ignored it. Kreighley boys fought. It was how they determined pecking order. Kevin was respected, even though he couldn't fight, but that was an anomaly. Not many others escaped without the odd bruising. He asked curiously, "Has Paul been in any fights?"

"No. He still backs down if pressed. I think he always will."

"I suppose some damage is for always."

The crashing waves were getting closer as the tide came in, and the wind became more biting. Harry's hair was long again, and was whipping about his face. They were suddenly surrounded by boys, "Ready to go up now, Kev? The wind'd freeze yer fuckin' ass off!"

_hphphphp_

That evening, Harry arrived at the Chases, having collected Jason and Daniel, both of whom were now living and studying at Falmouth, but home for this special 'Family Discussion.' Vera greeted them each with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, accepted by Dan as a matter of course, by Harry with a real fondness for his adoptive mother, and by Jason with a slight flush. She asked, "Sarah didn't come?"

"She said maybe just Chases this time."

"She's part of our family too, but still, I guess she won't be affected."

Jason said, "You want to adopt Paul, don't you?"

"Paul has pulled away from us. He doesn't want to leave Kreighley."

"Someone else then?"

"Ross is to arrive shortly, also Ruth Grierson. She's the one in charge of all the children's homes."

Dan said, "That's Ross's boss, isn't it?"

"Effectively, yes."

"So what's his name?"

"I don't know anything about him, except that he's still with his grandparents. Ruth is to tell us about him."

They were trooping into the large formal sitting room where a large tea trolley was set out, with some mouth-watering cakes and biscuits waiting. The younger boys' eyes went directly to it, and Vera laughed, "Wait until our guests arrive, please boys."

Harry observed, "Elaine's been busy." Elaine was the one who usually cooked for the Chases, while her husband kept the grounds in order. She was an expert cook, but seemed to feel that the help should be invisible to 'The Family' whenever possible.

The two extra guests didn't take too long, and both of them only spoke generally while Dan and Jason demolished the feast, occasionally remembering to politely hand around the plates and pretend to be interested when Ruth spoke about recent changes in the staffing laws.

Jason finally said, "Well that's better than we get at the boarding house, that's for sure."

Ross asked, "How are Jerry and Zack going, Jason? You're in the same boarding house, aren't you?"

"Jerry thinks it's OK, but Zack's talking about trying something else. They earn their money, fishing."

Vera said, betraying her impatience, "You were going to tell us about this boy available for adoption."

Ross turned to Ruth, who waited until she had everyone's full attention before starting. "The grandparents are Anne and Bruce Lacey. They're ordinary, middle-class people; Bruce was a teacher, Anne a secretary for a time. They had two children, the first was a son who was killed in a car accident at the age of eighteen. They blame this loss for their daughter going off the rails. She ran off with a boyfriend soon after the death, and they didn't hear from her for three years, when she rang the doorbell and presented them with a month-old baby. She said she couldn't take care of it. She didn't keep in touch, but they tracked her down with the aid of a private detective. Drugs, prostitution, serial boyfriends, you know the sort of thing. So they raised the child as if he was their own. Two years later, another child, this time a girl.

"They're good children, who've never known their mother. The boy is thirteen and the girl not long turned eleven. Recently, Bruce Lacey was diagnosed with a brain tumour, and Anne is trying desperately to look after him. She's not in good health herself. They live in Falmouth, and the children go to school there. If you were willing to take them, they might not have to change schools, and they could be together. It's very hard when siblings have to be separated."

Vera looked doubtfully at James, "We were thinking of adopting one, not fostering two."

Ross said, "They're good kids, nice manners, doing well in school. Mark was to come to me, but he's the same age as Jack and Tom, who might be absolute villains, but are very popular with the rest of the boys. I don't want young Mark admiring and maybe copying them. As for adoption, the mother won't consent. Anne and Bruce say there's no hope she'll clean up. She's nearly died of Heroin overdose twice that they know of. It is quite possible these kids will soon be literally orphans."

James said, "I've heard that many foster homes are poor."

"There's a severe shortage. Some are excellent, some not so good."

"Boys?"

Harry said, "We've all left home now. It's really up to you, Mum."

"The girl is the younger one."

"Here are the photos," and Ruth handed over two photos, the children in neat school uniform. Vera studied them, and asked, "They want to stay at their old school? That could be a problem."

"They don't have to. And anyway, as fostered children rather than adopted, you'll be paid enough for someone to drive them every day if you want."

"I suppose that's reasonable. It's not very far."

Jason asked, "Can I see?"

After studying the photos for a few minutes, he announced, "That boy looks thoroughly soft. He wouldn't cope with Kreighley boys. I thinks you'd best have them, Mum."

Vera smiled, "A girl. Brother and sister."

James said, "Two more bedrooms. Where are we going to put them?"

Harry suggested, "Divide my room into two, and when Sarah and I come, we'll just use the guest room."

Later that night, James scratched his head as Vera posed side on to the mirror until she grinned and boasted, "Five children, and I haven't lost my figure."

The brother and sister came a few days later. They were known as Mark and Cathy Lacey, though on their birth certificates, their names were Markoff-Lee and Caterina-May, mother Monica Lacey. In neither case was a father noted. Every week, they were taken to visit their grandparents who had loved them as their own. Every week, Bruce looked a little smaller and older, and Anne a little more careworn.

After three months, Anne Lacey rang Vera to let her know that Monica Lacey was confirmed dead, and if she wanted to adopt her children, then she could.

When Mark and Cathy attended the funeral of their mother, they were surrounded by their foster family, three brothers and a mother and father. Bruce wasn't there, but Anne was, with a female neighbour hovering close, trying to be a comfort when there was no comfort. A daughter lost forever because of drugs.

By the time Bruce Lacey also died, Mark and Cathy were a legal part of the Chase family.

***chapter end***


	24. Chapter 24

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: The Northern Alliance of Europe is also known as the Nadlan, and the Southern Alliance as the Sudlan. An Aniragia is a wizarding area, protected by spells from intrusion by Muggles. Toulousaine is the main Aniragia of the Sudlan. * Working in the Hall of Prophecies: Wallace Pettit, Gloria, Sue and Barbara, who'd been Aurors._

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 24 **_

In the Durmstrang Hospital Wing, Hermione Carlyle flipped quickly through the pages of a book, searching for clues to the ailment that had filled twelve of the fourteen beds of her ward. They were all boys aged twelve and thirteen, and all suffering from a particularly nasty complaint in a very tender area. She was looking up Muggle complaints, particularly Mumps.

Professor Fuchs breathed a sigh of relief when he entered the Hospital Wing. It was such a treat to be warm. Self-indulgence was frowned upon at Durmstrang, but the snow was heaped high outside, and the corridors and classrooms were icy. Madam Carlyle maintained that it was essential to keep the hospital area warm so as not to compromise the health of the patients. The professor was not the only one who found reason to visit Hermione.

Beside him was a boy of thirteen, looking miserable and fidgeting. Hermione sighed. It looked like another one.

Three hours later, she thought she might finally have a clue to the puzzle. 'Jokes' were frowned upon at Durmstrang, but it hadn't stopped Weasleys' products making it here. The dose of powder was only supposed to make the victim's nose big for a few minutes, but close questioning had ascertained that all of the boys with the painful and delicate problem had handled the 'joke.' She might have traced the source before, but discipline was harsh, and no-one wanted to admit to being anywhere near any forbidden item.

There was nothing in the powder that could much hurt anyone. Her careful analysis had checked that. Revealing spells didn't show any curse on the object, but she kept trying. It had to be here. She knew from her time at St. Mungo's that Fred and George had begun causing real harm to some of their victims, and she was positive they were to blame.

When a friend of one of her patients turned up and timidly handed her an unopened box, she accepted it with a pair of tongs, and reminded him to come to her instantly if he had problems himself. He squirmed, and admitted 'Maybe.' Luckily, that one was only imagination, and she was able to send him off before returning to the box.

Another hour, and she did the rounds of her patients again, handing out pain potions. It was a nasty thing, and she thought that she should return the curse to its originators. She'd never liked the twins, and it seemed they were not improving with age. They were clever though, and the curse was very sneaky. Only one of her revealing spells had indicated that there might be anything at all. There was an expert in Dark Arts she could consult, but she loathed Professor Wikan.

It took her days, but she identified the curse, reversed it, and those patients still sick, were instantly cured, warned never to touch anything from the Weasleys again, and sent off. She'd promised not to tell on them. She may have been a Mudblood, but she was becoming a favourite among the younger students at the school, especially the girls, very much a minority at Durmstrang. Most girls were educated at home, and hardly any remained through the senior years, usually being married off early, without the option.

The realities of life in the Nadlan, even in the relatively protected environment of the school, were not about to reduce Hermione's bitterness at the way she'd been treated, or the very real anger and disgust she felt at the wizarding world. She still felt ill at the thought of Muggle slaves. At least there didn't seem to be any at the school.

A few days after her young patients were cured, she was visited by a Healer Muenterfering, of Gajevic Hospital, the primary wizard hospital of the Northern Alliance. Muenterfering's approach was arrogant, and he looked down on the Mudblood witch with an obvious disdain when he demanded that she explain the cure for 'Muent's Disease.' He had several patients in the hospital, adult wizards 'suffering terribly.' Hermione was humbly cooperative, and took great care that while her explanation would enable the Healer to improve his patients' condition, he would not be able to cure them without her help. The result was as she'd hoped, Hermione was called in to cure the patients, though it was Muenterfering who took the credit.

Another a week later, and then a patient with a different illness. Hermione took great care to be modest and unassuming, and made sure never to take any more credit for her cures than she was freely given.

She stayed at Durmstrang during the Summer holidays, working very hard. Not for nothing had she been called 'the brightest witch of her age,' and by the time school resumed in the Autumn, her products were already available at every Aniragia in Northern Europe. The lotions, creams and potions were benign and effective. There were beauty products and scents for women, beauty products and scents for men, marketed as shaving products. There was an effective virility potion with a less foul taste than any other, and a 'Pepper-up' that tasted remarkably pleasant, and left the drinker feeling wonderful for hours. She had two separate ranges, each range with its own brand name, expensive ones for the wealthy and credulous, and cheap ones to try for as large a distribution as she could.

Her distributor preferred that the brilliant inventor of the two lines of products remain secret. It might affect sales if it was known that it was a 'filthy Mudblood.' Still, he never allowed his prejudices to stand in the way of his profits, and the split was 60/40 his way.

Hermione was very happy not to be identified as the inventor, and spoke about her ambition to achieve wide-spread distribution in Britain as well as the Nadlan.

While Hermione's products did no harm to anyone, there was an almost undetectable curse on the wrapping that reduced the fertility of anyone who handled them. The effect was gradual, but they were the type of products that would be purchased again and again, each time delivering another dose of that subtle curse, different for men and women. She'd learned something from Fred and George, not just the initial sneakiness, but to make cause and effect as distant as possible. She would have worked out the cause of the students' complaint a lot quicker if they'd been willing to admit to playing with 'jokes.'

She hadn't done anything about Fred and George. It had occurred to her that their curse could easily act like Mumps, which sometimes sterilised its victims. She wanted Wizardkind wiped out, but she was only one person. If the Weasley twins wanted to help, they were welcome.

_hphphphp_

Sue handed a carefully recorded prophecy to Wallace, _'Silent Death stalks us. The dragon still sleeps, but Silent Death is already among us, eating our future. Our future devoured, day by day. Only the Protector can help us now.' _

Wallace asked, "Who wrote it?"

"I've never heard of him. He's just a kid. I investigated."

"His name?"

"Sebastion Turpin. He's fourteen, and it was sent to us by his sister, who's married to Van Carlyle."

"So she hasn't managed to escape yet?"

"Did she try and escape?"

"She didn't want the marriage, but she was caught and dragged back. That was before the people-smugglers started operation."

Sue said strongly, "_No-one_ should be forced into a marriage they don't want."

"I'm inclined to agree with you. I know a fifteen-year-old, Layla Smythe. She's been withdrawn from school, and now she's a prisoner in her father's home. They're just waiting for her to turn sixteen before Bonding her to the highest bidder. A Pure-blood girl. Now that so many have slipped out of the country, they're much in demand."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Some of the Aurors talk to me. They don't think it's right, but what can they do?"

"They could emigrate, that's what they could do. Or maybe something more drastic."

Wallace raised an eyebrow, "Be careful. Loose talk can be dangerous."

It could also be very useful. Layla Smythe was in tears of gratitude when the team retrieved her from her home and delivered her to the care of Mary and Narcissa Black, who now lived in France, one of the many residents of Toulousaine.

_hphphphp_

Kevin listened closely to the specialist as she explained the benefits of an operation on his spine. It was getting too bent, and he now sat lower in his chair. He asked, "Probably about six weeks in hospital?"

"Usually about that. And it carries the risks that any operation does, made worse by the fact that you cannot exercise as a normal person can. But if you don't have it, the scoliosis will just get worse. It's not going to improve. You know that."

Kevin appreciated her straight talk, that she didn't gloss over the realities of the situation. Probably the operation would be worth having if he'd been condemned to live for more years, but he wasn't. He had Lee, and when it was time, he could just ask Lee, and then it would be over. Already he'd lived for longer than he would have wanted to if he hadn't had the reassurance of a wizard to help him. He declined the operation.

Harry visited a few days later, and Kevin told him about it. Also that in the late stages, if he were to live that long, he might have to have a feeding tube directly into his stomach, because the muscles of his oesophagus wouldn't work properly, that he might even have difficulty in talking.

Harry said, "You'll be able to talk to me, even if you can't talk to others. I'll come more often then, if you want."

"Stephen Hawking has some sort of a voice synthesizer. I could maybe have something like that."

"You could. And I've spoken to Dr. Tan by the way. If anything happens to me, and you die suddenly, he'll just sign the death certificate as natural causes, even if you had help."

Kevin looked at him curiously, "Did you use magic when you spoke to him?"

"I'm afraid I did. I don't want anyone around you to be suspected of helping you die when it's time."

"Aaron would help me if I asked. Even now..."

He trailed off, and after a time, Harry prompted, "Even now?"

Kevin flushed as he asked, "Do you know how awful it is to need someone to wipe your bum for you? And sometimes I choke on my food, and that's disgusting. I hate being this way. Not long ago I was asked to take part in a series of film clips to put on the internet. It's to inform people, especially for younger ones with DMD. I was supposed to be really positive, to focus on what I can do, not what I can't do. I said no. There's nothing positive about this."

Harry waited, and Kevin finally said, "Not yet. I had a long talk with Jack the other day, and I'm pretty sure he listened this time. I hope so, anyway."

"Is Tom back yet?"

"Due back tomorrow." Tom had stolen a car, and driven all the way to Hastings before running out of petrol. He'd spent a fortnight in juvenile detention. Kevin continued, "I thought about what you said about being able to help, and you're right. I can help the younger ones sometimes. Maybe it's because I'm not any sort of threat to them. But I'm not hanging around too long, all the same."

"It's entirely up to you. Just remember that there's no going back. Dead is dead."

Kevin hitched a shoulder slightly in an approximation of a shrug, "Well, it's a decision I won't be regretting afterward."

"I guess not."

"I think you should influence Dr. Faint as well. She's the specialist. And maybe even the local police and Dr. Tan's partner. It's just in case, you know? It would be terrible if Aaron was in trouble just for helping me. And even now, it's almost too hard for me to get the drugs out of the box. If they suspected, they'd know I couldn't have done it myself. And I have to be cremated, and quickly."

Harry was a bit daunted at the thought of trying to influence the Traynor police, but it turned out to be quite easy after all. Ross mentioned he was visiting there in relation to some shoplifting, and Harry asked to go with him. Then when the sergeant seized the opportunity to ask him if he was going to tell him about his own past, maybe name names, it was a simple matter to say that he'd been lucky compared to some, that young Kevin Stern was not only crippled and deteriorating, but could easily die quite suddenly of cardiac arrest. "It affects the heart muscle as well as everything else, you see." A little magic, and Conroy and the two other officers present in the room, suddenly believed that the crippled youth at Kreighley was likely to die suddenly, and completely naturally.

Ross looked at him curiously, sure now that Kevin had asked for help to die, and that probably Lee was planning on doing it for him. He didn't refer to any mercy killing, but said as they drove back to the Beach Home, "Kevin says he wants to be cremated when he dies. I think it's a good idea myself, probably the same day if possible. It'll only upset the other boys more if there's too much time between the death and the funeral."

"I agree."

"Anyone helping him would have to be very careful, of course."

"He'll live longer, and be a lot happier doing so if he knows he won't be forced to live on when he doesn't want to."

"Should I ask Donna to see him?"

"Donna means well, and quite often does more harm than good."

"She's helped Luke. He's very much improved." Luke was another from an abusive home.

Harry said definitely, "Not for Kevin."

Ross said, "I guess not. How are you these days, Lee?"

Harry smiled at him, "I'm very happy with Sarah. We're not working, just travelling when we want to, working on our house, and Sarah's still doing some studying as an external student."

"How old are you now, Lee?"

"Twenty-one."

Ross laughed, "I can never catch you out, can I?"

"Why would you want to? I've managed a very nice life for myself. I'm not about to spoil it by opening my mouth too wide."

***chapter end***


	25. Chapter 25

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: * Dasse Sabine Portat is the Dassier or Minister for Magic of the Sudlan. * Britonaum includes all of Britain plus Ireland. It is usually simply called 'Britain.' * Anirage is a different name for Wizardkind, Ani – wizards, Ania – witches._

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 25**_

It was late in October, 2003. Harry and Sarah were working in office in the large basement area at 'Whiteoaks,' or Potter Manor. There were several rooms here, the training room where Harry still routinely practised his self-defence skills, two rooms filled with books unfit to be seen by Muggles, a large office area, comfortable sitting rooms and a modern bathroom. Off to one side, there was a small apartment, they assumed for servants. From there, a set of external steps led up to a small walled garden. The walls and gate had been heavily warded, and Harry had had to drop them before Sarah could venture through. It was a point of vulnerability, and he made a point of re-warding it afterwards, though only against wizards. The lock on the heavy gate plus the height of the walls made it safe from entry by any normal intruder.

Vera and James Chase were frequent visitors to the home now, as were Harry's brothers and Cathy, his one sister. Cathy proclaimed herself thoroughly overwhelmed with so many brothers, but only she and Mark lived at home, and her 'bigger brothers' knew perfectly well that she was happy in her enlarged family. None of them knew about this area. There were things here that were unsuitable for them to see, though there was little obvious magic. Vera would have been instantly attracted to the old books and scrolls, but while the content would have betrayed a different world, none of the illustrations moved. With the new emphasis on security, no books or newspapers were allowed to be sold with moving pictures. The 'moving' charm had seldom lasted long in any case, a few days for newspapers, a few years for Books. Hogwarts had been an exception. With its highly charged magical atmosphere, the feature had lasted indefinitely.

Sarah was studying a large map of Northern England on the wall. On other walls were maps of Ireland, Scotland, Southern England, and a smaller scale one of the whole of the United Kingdom and Ireland, - Britonaum as it was called.

Sarah asked, "Where exactly did you say the Weasley twins have their pet shop?"

Harry walked over, carefully considered the map, and put in a coloured pin, close to the pin denoting their luxury home. Sarah attached a label in an unmarked area close to it, the name and the apparation coordinates. This mapping of all the Anirage in Britain was Sarah's idea. She'd never forgotten being imprisoned and helpless, in the power of alien men without conscience. If they were ever threatened again, she wanted to be as prepared as possible, and as she'd pointed out to Harry, if there were only around 6,000 Anirage in Britain, that probably only meant around 2000 households, 4,000 at the very most. That number was quite reasonable to map. Goblin Vlasna supplied them with the information, doubtless obtained from his network of contacts. She planned to start mapping the Anirage of the Northern and Southern Alliances as well.

Harry agreed that it was a good idea, but spared little thought for wizards, except that he routinely used the Hiding Spell whenever he went out. Only once had he even seen a wizard since he'd been to visit Hermione, and that had been by accident. It had been Neville, walking quickly through a London street. For a moment he'd been tempted to hail him, but in the end, had shrugged and continued on his own business.

He flipped carelessly through one last newspaper, but then stopped and looked at a particular article more closely. It was the _Touousaine Trabeche_, and stated that there were now 600 new residents settled in their area, refugees from Britain. Refugees. He wondered if the Minister might finally think about rescinding some of the stupidity that had prevailed these last few years. They were surely losing too much of their population.

Minister Lionel Pettit looked grimly at the latest figures. It hadn't been a concern in the beginning when women had started leaving the country. There had been a large surplus of older women then. But not so long ago, all but two of the Hogwarts sixth year girls had disappeared from Hogwarts immediately after the exams, not wanting to run the risk of being forcibly Bonded to old men wanting heirs. They'd had help, and not from their families. It was now illegal for any female to leave Britain without the permission of their Head of House.

There had been a list of demands sent in by the leader of the 'Women's Resistance,' Molly Weasley of all people. He suspected that she might be just a figure-head. Everyone knew Molly. She was a Personality. He had no intention of crumbling to pressure, even if it would mean a return of population to Britain. There were other ways, and he started drafting a new definition of 'treachery.' There had to be strong deterrents. Azkaban was a much more severe prison than the new one at Albuston. Traitors should be sentenced to a lengthy term in Azkaban, and with no nonsense about humane treatment either. He thought it a pity that there were no more Dementors for use as guards. Surely traitors deserved the worst.

There was the problem of young women being reluctant to do their duty. A strong Bonding with a girl of sixteen was the best way of ensuring the continuation of the great houses, but girls seemed to think they should have a say. Maybe the age of adulthood should be set higher for girls. It was still not legal to force a girl over seventeen to marry, but that could be changed perfectly easily. He was surprised he hadn't thought of it before.

_hphphphp_

Dasse Sabine Portat looked up as one of her staff arrived with the weekly report, and asked, "How many this time?"

"Fifteen women, all older ones. They're Pure-bloods, most of them, who are refusing to tolerate the conditions in Britain."

"At least they should be able to speak French. It's beginning to be a problem having so many."

"You're not going to close our borders to them, are you?"

"Of course not! They're legitimate refugees. Britain's becoming as bad as the Nadlan. It serves them right to lose their women."

The Dassier didn't intend to close her borders to the refugees, but there were standing orders to keep a careful watch on all visitors to the area just as much as possible. They could control Portkey arrivals, as the making of Portkeys required input from the country of destination. Apparation was uncontrolled, but had a limited range, which meant that they could keep a watch on any area close to the English Channel, as well as close to their borders with the Northern Alliance territories. They could also lay anti-Apparation wards across wide areas, but that would hinder genuine refugees, and Dasse Portat was very sorry for the women of Britain. For the Nadlan women too, but they'd grown up under such restrictions, so maybe they didn't make them so angry.

She didn't agree with Mauresmo that invasion or revolution was likely. The treaties that had settled the three Ministries' areas of jurisdiction had been in place for too many generations for minor disputes to upset them. The Sudlan government was a good one. It was their wise decisions that meant they were a peaceful region, a place that other people fled to, not from. And even if it was women who formed the majority of their government, it did not mean that wizards had fewer rights in any way. They were respected just as much as women were respected.

Three days later, the Dassier had another conference with Mauresmo. New prophecies. Dasse Portat took notice of prophecies, and had assigned 'experts' to interpret them. It was unfortunate that the experts rarely agreed with each other, but this time it was quite clear. The borders should be closed to all imports, even including harmless products such as cosmetics, and no more wizards should be allowed in at all, only Ania, - witches.

There were some disgruntled murmurings at that. Old Pierre Bateche was deprived of his virility potion, and the wife was annoyed with him when he was always 'too tired' again. Teenage girls lost the only effective anti-pimple compound they'd ever known, and a few older ones sighed over losing their special 'Pepperup,' 'so good it should have been illegal' as one elderly matron told her neighbour.

_hphphphp_

Gloria said to Wallace Pettit, "I think I've worked out who the Protector is, Wallace. And the sleeping dragon? You'll laugh at me, but I think it's Harry Potter. Maybe he didn't lose his magic after all."

Sue glanced around and said positively, "It can't be. Grant and I looked after him, remember? He couldn't use magic then, and he wore those fiendish bracelets for weeks. He was crippled, poor boy."

Wallace asked, "Who do you think is the Protector, Gloria?"

"Severus Snape. He was made his Demter Guardian, because Harry was Muggle-raised. And remember, Sue? You were telling me he really was acting protective."

"He jumped to his defence once, when we thought Harry had attacked some girls."

Gloria said, "And not long after he turned seventeen, Snape took him to Diagon Alley, and then tried to get him out of St. Mungo's where he was in danger, and a year or so later, left the country. It was rumoured that he'd been threatened for interfering with certain people's plans for the boy."

Barbara scoffed, "Potter has no magic. Whether Snape is the Protector or not, Harry can't be the sleeping dragon."

Wallace stared at nothing, thinking. Severus Snape, the sarcastic, difficult-to-know Potions teacher. He'd been a Death Eater, but had survived, and been named as a spy working for Dumbledore. He'd actually helped defeat the Dark Lord. He was still an unpleasant man. Yet if he had tried to protect Harry Potter...

A few days later, he was at an entertainment with others of his family, and asked about Snape. He was quickly answered by one of the young Pettits who'd attacked Harry at Sirius's funeral. "Severus Snape is to be killed if he sets foot in Britain ever again, or that's what I've heard," and he cast a side-long glance at Michael, Head of his family and Vanie.

Lionel Pettit was present, Minister for Magic. He said nothing of the legality of threatened murder, but said, "You'll be thirty soon, won't you, Michael? You'll be able to take your place on the Wizemgamot."

Van Michael Pettit replied, "13th November. It's been a real irritation having to wait."

"You should have another wife as well."

"I guess... Wives can be a nuisance sometimes, and I do have an heir." Michael Pettit was one of those who'd lost their wives in the Samhein tragedy, two wives in his case. He was a good customer of Barnabus Cuffe. It was not only that he thought Cuffe more discreet, but his merchandise was cheaper, which was a factor when there was a high turnover.

_hphphphp_

Viktor Krum told Hermione, "I would have been here earlier if I'd known. These prejudices..." and his eyes went to her left wrist, hidden by her sleeve, where he knew there was a leather band keeping her under control. "They are ridiculous. I want to be with you. I want you to be my wife. I can be your protector."

Hermione raised one eyebrow, "A protector?" Did she need protecting? Maybe she did. If anyone found out what she'd been doing this past year... The next batch of products that went out had no curses on them, subtle or otherwise.

Just a month later, when Hermione was preparing for her second wedding, she was visited by three wizards, one in normal robes, one in the severe uniform of a Nadlan Auror, and Healer Rall, whom she knew. Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Yes?"

The wizard apparently in charge stepped forward. "I am Herr Gauleiter. There has been a change in our law. No Muggle-born is permitted to marry. Your proposed wedding to Herr Krum cannot take place. Also," and he hesitated, and glanced at the Auror who raised his wand, aiming at Hermione, a warning not to resist. Hermione waited, frozen-faced.

Gauleiter continued, "You are to be sterilised. All Mudbloods have to be sterilised," and he glanced at the Healer.

Hermione curled her lip, but waited unspeaking as the Healer said the words that sterilised. She didn't flinch, didn't resist, and only afterwards did she coldly ask, "Anything else?"

"Nothing else."

Hermione managed to get both Gauleiter and the Auror before they left. There wasn't time for Rall, but he was quite old in any case.

Three days later, Krum visited, quite distressed. He said that he still wanted to protect her, just that they couldn't marry. Hermione said, "If we emigrated to the Sudlan, we could marry."

Krum looked at her blankly, "Emigrate?"

"I realise you would lose your career, but international Quidditch is very dangerous. At some point, you're going to be too badly hurt to continue playing, so you'll lose it anyway. A Healer would be welcome there, and your skills... I am sure you could get a job." She regarded his reluctant face, and turned away from him, "Think about it and let me know."

Krum went to her, embracing, and for a moment she yielded, allowing the embrace, as he tried to soothe, "I'll be here for you. I'll always try and protect you. You need a protector. Just that we can't marry..."

Hermione asked in a distant tone, "Do you wish to take me into your household?"

"If only... I want to, you know that. But..."

"But what, Viktor?"

"I am contracted to marry someone else. I cannot ask her to tolerate a mistress in my household."

Hermione stared at him. She had a feeling he wasn't nearly as sorry as she was. She was a bit slow that time, and he was nearly out the door before she sent the sterilisation spell.

A few days later, there was a note from him, again apologising for the broken promise. She read it, and went back to treating the boxes that were to contain a product to reduce beard growth, a convenience for men. In spite of her bitterness and anger, she stayed true to her promise to herself. The curses were undetectable by any ordinary means, and their effect quite subtle. She wanted 100% coverage before she was discovered. There should be no more bastard wizard babies born. The species was to die out.

There were times when the slow revenge was not enough for her, and she started to go out more often. There didn't seem to be any other Muggle-borns to associate with, but she went shopping more frequently, went to Quidditch matches, she was called in to Gajevic Hospital now and then, and once found an excuse to visit the Nadlan Ministry. She kept her wand up her sleeve, and was very good now at making her spells without being detected. She just wished she could risk marking the ones she'd attended to. She'd long since lost count and was probably doing some people several times over. Especially wizards. She despised wizards. That she cursed women as well was because she wanted Anirage to cease to be, without actually much hurting anyone. But the wizards... Occasionally, when she was sure she'd be undetected, she started to work a similar curse to the one that the Weasley twins had devised.

***chapter end***


	26. Chapter 26

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Harry's adoptive family, Vera and James, Daniel, Jason, Mark and Cathy. Jason's real father is called Sam Reed. * 'Cerlikh' is when Harry defeated Voldemort, and took from him power, as well as a lot of his memories and knowledge. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 26**_

Hermione peered at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her normal uniform, dark blue, with white trim. She'd devised it herself, simple and practical, a far cry from the old-fashioned nurse's uniform that Madam Pomfrey had worn. There was the badge of crossed wands on her collar. She was a qualified Healer, even if she was no longer paid as one.

Hermione felt old and bitter and very, very lonely. Her face didn't show it. She was still surprised that the buck-toothed, frizzy-haired bookworm had developed into a reasonably attractive women. Viktor had called her 'lovely,' but she couldn't see it herself. It was Christmas morning, but there was no family for her, no real celebrations, no gifts, nothing. A memory came to her from long ago, her father bouncing her up and down on his knee and chanting a doggerel. _'Lovely lovely Linley Jones, Lonely lonely Linley Jones.'_ She couldn't remember the rest, and only remembered that part because he'd sometimes called her that name, 'Linley Jones.'

When she went to breakfast, the two female staff members smiled at her, and later three first year girls timidly approached with a small gift. "We know it's a Muggle custom, but we thought you might be sad."

Hermione nearly cried as she accepted the small box of chocolates, and refrained from doing any harm to Wizardkind for a few days.

_hphphphp_

Harry shifted restlessly in the church pew. Sarah had excused herself from attendance, but he knew how much Vera enjoyed having all her family with her for the Christmas service, and so he was there as her oldest son. Seven of them now. He noticed that James was dozing. They'd been up late the previous night, talking. Even the young ones, Cathy and Mark, had been up late. Cathy sat beside him, staring at him every now and then. It made him a little uneasy, wondering just what she was thinking. It was not as if she didn't know him. He stayed at the Chase home at least one night a week, visiting Kevin and helping with various Kreighley excursions. She'd always seemed to like him, but this frowning gaze... He shifted his shoulders a little in his jacket as if he felt an itch. She was making him uncomfortable.

On the way home, travelling in the small bus James had bought, she came out with it. "Someone said you were a male prostitute, Lee, and Mr. Davies rescued you and that's why you were in Kreighley, and then Mum and Dad got you out."

Mark thumped her, and said, "You're not supposed to _say_ things like that," but then spoiled it by asking with distressing frankness, "_Were_ you one of those?"

Cathy, at twelve, only had a vague idea of the mechanics of sex, and asked, "But what would you do? You're a boy."

Harry looked for help from James or Vera, but they were in the front seat, and not taking notice, probably not hearing. He said, trying to be patient, "It is very rude to ask about a person's past when you know it was probably not pleasant, Cathy. But I was never a male prostitute."

Cathy persisted, "But how? What would they do with a boy?"

Not only Harry but both Dan and Jason were squirming with embarrassment. Mark just stared, as curious as Cathy. Harry raised his voice, "James? Would you kindly tell Cathy that certain things are not for noisy talk?"

James glanced back, and said, "Quiet, Cathy. If you have questions, ask your mother."

Cathy wasted no time, "Mum, how would a man have sex with a boy?"

"Ummm... Later. Ask me later. It's not something to discuss in public."

"It's not public. It's just us."

James said with finality in his voice, "That's _enough_, Cathy."

Cathy grumbled, but quietly, "I was only _asking._" But then thankfully they were home, and Harry took care not to be left alone with his sister. He didn't think he liked Cathy very much right then. Surely girls should have a _little _tact.

It seemed that this one didn't, as she chose the middle of Christmas dinner to say, "I'm very sorry, Lee. Mum told me that Kreighley boys were always abused, and it says nothing about their character."

Vera corrected, "I didn't say Kreighley boys were _always_ abused. They're just kids who have nowhere to go. Some of them might have been. Not all of them."

Dan said, "I was never abused," and Jason put in, "Nor me. Just taught how to steal cars, burgle houses and pick pockets. See? Nothing to be ashamed of."

Cathy stared at him, mouth open, and Sarah too, was looking surprised. Mark said, "Really? Steal cars?"

"I'm going to see my father tomorrow. He's in gaol. That's what happens to thieves."

Mark said, "I guess I'd better not ask you to show me how, then."

Cathy said, "Mum said we're not to tell anyone you were in Kreighley, Lee. Why?"

"I made a lot of enemies, and if they had the chance, they would kill me. I prefer not to be killed."

Jason asked, "What about that other thing? They don't want you for that now?"

"I'm too old, I think. Last time I had any sort of trouble, they were just going to kill me. It's just lucky I can run fast. So you see, Cathy. Talk too loud, and I might just get killed," and Jason put in rather more aggressively, "Yeah, keep your mouth shut."

Cathy was finally crushed, and sat staring at her meal. She was sitting next to James, who put a hand to her back, and Harry said quietly, "Thank you for your apology, Cathy. I realise it was just because you didn't understand."

"Yes, Lee. I'm sorry."

Sarah offered, "There are always great sales just after Christmas, Cathy. You and I can go to Plymouth tomorrow if you want, while Jason and Lee go to London."

"Could we go to London too?"

"It's too far for a day trip. Jason and Lee are staying overnight. But Plymouth has some wonderful shops."

"But I want to see the gaol."

Jason said decisively, "No way. It's not a place for girls, especially not my sister."

Mark said, "Me?"

"No."

_hphphp_

It was late the next day. Vera said, "They're home," and a few minutes later, anxiously, "Jason's driving. Lee's not there."

Jason explained over coffee. Vera, James and Dan were present; Mark and Cathy were spending the day at their grandmother's, and Sarah was at her mother's place.

"It was my father. He told me there's a contract out on Harry Potter. That's Lee. That there was a large amount of money offered just for information, and that if we wanted him to stay alive, he should be very careful, and absolutely, not come to the gaol."

"Did anyone else recognise him, do you think?"

"Dad doesn't think so, and promises not to tell anyone else. But he referred to him as Ricky, so that's a danger. I visited him once before with Ricky, so he knows that name as well as Lee."

Vera asked quietly, "Is he very frightened?"

"He didn't act frightened, just frowned a bit, and then he said he might do some investigating. That he had money and it was time he used it. He said you can get a lot of information if you spread your money around a bit."

"Maybe he should go into hiding."

"He's already in hiding. No-one knows he's Lee Chase."

"Sam knows he was Ricky, probably knows he was at Kreighley. There has to be records of the adoption..." Vera trailed off miserably. A contract, that meant a professional hit man. How could her Lee survive against that?

_hphphp_

Harry leaned against the wall regarding the hit man. His name, he said, was Billy Hughes, and he was quite small, with wispy grey hair. About fifty, the sort of man you'd pass by in a crowd and never notice. He was sitting in a chair, ropes around him. He'd had to take care what spells he used on him, but he could conjure ropes and make the spell that tied up the man. That was safe enough. He didn't want to accidentally kill the Muggle, hit man or not.

Hughes pleaded, "Please let me go. I promise I'll never interfere in the affairs of wizards again. I _promise_. Please, just let me go?"

In the hit man's experience, hardly any man was as ruthless as himself, and this one was not much more than a kid, even if one with awful powers. But it was possible he'd just let him go, and he tried to look as small and harmless as he could. There had been no fight, just that this young man had been suddenly there, ordering him to sit in the chair, and then ropes had wrapped themselves tightly around him. He was in his own lounge-room, inside a solid house, with burglar alarms, security cameras, high fences and padlocked gates. And then he'd been interrogated, unable to resist, even _offering_ information that could be helpful to the wizard. He hadn't known there were any such things as wizards. He knew now.

Harry said, "You're a murderer. I don't know _what_ to do with you. You can make suggestions if you want." Harry was at a loss. There was no point handing him over to the authorities without evidence, and he certainly had no wish to become involved with police. But Vera wouldn't like it if he killed someone, and this one was a Muggle. To Harry, Muggles were victims of wizards, not people he could kill.

Hughes whined, "I may have killed, but I've never tortured my targets first, and that's what you're doing to me."

"I'm not going to just let you go, you know that."

"I'll retire, go on the dole, never raise a hand to anyone again. You could let me go. I'll reform, I promise I'll reform."

Harry's eyes wandered over his target, and suddenly his outer clothing vanished. Hughes had a strong, wiry build. He was almost certainly an expert fighter in spite of his very ordinary appearance. Even his name, 'Billy,' didn't sound like a killer. Casually, he touched over a tied-down hand, seeing and feeling the old scars around the knuckles. Hughes involuntarily clenched his fist, but said, "I'm not a violent man. I haven't been in a fight for years."

"Prefer waiting in ambush and then just shooting?"

There was no answer. Harry ran a hand down a muscular arm, frowning. Kevin. Kevin could barely lift his own arms any more. But if he tried to make it that Hughes was sick like that, he'd probably just kill him. Maim him physically? That would hurt him terribly - he didn't want to hurt. He supposed he could give the man the choice, maim or kill.

Hughes sagged in the chair when he asked, and finally said, "If you have to hurt me, you could give me an injection first. I happen to have some drugs on hand, then call the ambulance after you've left."

Harry warned, "It has to be severe. I can't leave you fit enough to hurt others."

Hughes shook his head, and then bravely looked his attacker in the eye, "Do it then. Fuck the drug," and Harry heard his thought, half contemptuous, half desperately hoping, that he wouldn't be tough enough to do what he threatened.

When Harry left Billy Hughes, the man had forgotten seeing him, but did remember his resolve to be law-abiding. He was convinced now that hurting others would hurt himself, that he could never kill again. It was a pendreiya, an unconscious instruction instilled by Harry. Only very clever and experienced wizards had the ability to make a binding pendreiya, but Harry was clever, and Voldemort had been both clever and experienced. Hughes had been right, Harry had been unable to deliberately damage his hands enough to cripple him and had finally come up with this other solution.

Harry next visited the contact, the one who was to organise Hughes' pay once the victim was dead. Trimble himself was insignificant, and Harry only left him sterilised and with a conviction that he should cease cooperating with the Warringtons. Two of the ones killed at Sirius's funeral had been Warringtons. Was it worth going after Camus Warrington, the Vanie? Harry was suddenly tired of it all. He already knew the Vanie mostly wanted him dead. Killing one wouldn't make any difference.

Only when he was home did he check the mobile phone he'd left there, and call to reassure Vera that he was fine. She'd left seven increasingly urgent messages, but he never took his phone with him when he went somewhere potentially dangerous, and never anything else that might link him with his family. As for Warrington and the rest, they hadn't got him yet, and he didn't think they would.

He supposed he should pay more attention to what was going in the wizarding world, but he was weary of it all, more annoyed than angry. He felt as if they should be left to stew in their own mess. If they died out because all their women fled, it served them right. Anyway, women had their wands too. Perhaps they should look out for themselves.

Vera squeezed him very hard when he returned, refrained from asking any questions, but kept watching him unhappily. He didn't quite know what to say to reassure her. He couldn't tell her that he'd dealt with the hit man, and nor could he tell her that there were still hundreds of wizards who wanted him dead. He didn't think that finding and killing him was a priority in their lives, but he suspected that might not be much of a reassurance to his Mum. Mum. Oddly, James had never become 'Dad,' but Vera was completely and comfortably, 'Mum.'

Cathy was also watching him, and when he sat on the couch, she slipped out of her chair, sat next to him, and put her arm around him. He smiled at her, "Hello, Sis."

"Hello, biggest brother."

Harry grinned and said, "Both Jase and Dan are bigger than me."

"You're biggest though, just not in size. Do men really want to kill you?"

"Sometimes."

"Then I want you to drive me to Plymouth, and I'll show you something, a disguise shop. Sarah and me saw it, but I only thought of you later."

Sarah entered the room and stopped, seeing her place beside him usurped. Cathy said brightly, "Remember that disguise shop?"

"When I was in the bookshop?"

"That's right. The better disguise masks were too dear for me, and anyway, I thought Lee would want to choose."

Harry squeezed her and asked, "You coming with me?"

The salesman's eyes contained a hint of sly mischief as he showed Lee, Sarah and Cathy a selection of disguises, and divulged, "My faces have been used in several bank robberies, a killing or two, and thousands of fancy dress parties."

Harry held up a George Bush face, and asked, "Haven't I seen something like this in films? Except that it's like a second skin that adheres to someone's face."

"Ah, you want a custom-made one. They cost far more, but you'd never know it's not real. Takes a good half-hour to put on, mind, and I do have regular visits from the police asking what masks I've sold lately."

"I'd be more in the nature of a victim. I'll pay a price for utmost discretion."

"A regular face then?"

"A heavy-jowelled, middle-aged face, with a grey-haired, medium length wig to go with it."

"A victim? I'd need to know more before promising to keep it quiet. And that is a premium price."

Harry glanced at the women, and Sarah said firmly, "Come on, Cathy. We'll look at the kitchenware shop next door."

"I'm not interested in kitchenware," but with one last glance at her brother, she left.

Harry regarded the salesman, small built, middle-length glossy hair, fussy habits, and made a guess at the story likely to get the best results. "When I was just a kid, this very powerful man decided he liked boys, and me in particular. It took me a few years, but I finally left him. He was getting more and more perverse, though he was generous enough. I thought he'd really hurt me one day. So that was a blow to his pride, and now he'd like to see me dead. I don't want to be dead, which is why I want a very good, and comfortable mask for those few occasions when I go where he or his minions might see me."

"Minions?"

"Servants, family, whatever. I need a really good disguise."

The salesman's eyes assessed the attractive young man in front of him, and his voice took on a different note, "My name's Ken. I'll be totally discreet. I know of men like that, you see, and they can be dangerous."

"Thanks, Ken," and Harry smiled in answer to the blatant flirtation. He'd never made use of his attraction to men before, but his safety and the safety of those he cared about, were more important than moral quibbles.

Two weeks later, a middle-aged wizard, grizzled grey hair, paraded in front of his wife. Sarah was almost tentative, "Lee?"

"It's me," and he tried to grin. The mask was sufficiently flexible that expressions would show, but it felt rather stiff, especially around the cheeks and jaw, which were made to look considerably more fleshy than his own.

"I can only tell by your eyes." She studied him a moment more, and queried, "You're fatter?"

"A body suit. Around three inches out in the middle, and projections down my thighs which he said will change my walk, at the same time not impede me if I need to run. Good, isn't it?"

"It's extremely good."

"He made a pass, you know. In exchange for excellent quality and speedy service."

"What did you do?"

"I'm afraid I thought it prudent to make him forget me. That sort of forgetting does no damage, and I double-paid him." He still felt a little guilty about it. He didn't like interfering with Muggles.

"Anyone who knows you really well, will know the eyes. They're quite distinctive."

"I can shadow my face with the cowl. I'll have to get a few robes that fit better, maybe Muggle clothes too, and then I'll need a different wand."

"What's wrong with yours?"

"One that will not be recognised."

"They all look the same, don't they?"

"Similar. I'm not quite sure how we recognise them, but we can. If you know a person, you generally know the wand. To pass as a wizard, I need a wand. They're used all the time, you see, even just for making parcels lighter to carry. Not having one would be suspicious."

"So you're going to steal one?"

"From the wand-makers. Every wand sold by a reputable dealer is recorded and tagged by the Ministry, though I'm not sure exactly how, but the unsold stock is not. So tonight, I'll get all dressed up as a wizard, break the wards on the wand-makers, and steal some wands. Maybe a few dozen. I might need them one day."

"It'll be dangerous."

"A few years ago, I was in the centre of a ring of twenty wizards, and defeated them all perfectly easily."

"Be careful then."

"I'll be careful."

At two o'clock in the morning, a dark-cloaked, thick-set wizard analysed the feel of the very strong wards guarding Ollivanders, ensured they'd be dropped without alarms sounding, and entered the quiet shop. He placed his own wards around so that people outside, or upstairs in the residence would not see or hear, before making bright light within.

It was tidier than he remembered, and there was a change. In a corner, coloured pink and with a floral design, were racks marked 'Little witches.' Curious, Harry removed the wand from one of the decorated wand boxes, and took in the gold tracing and pretty design. But it was weak. That wand might be all right for making knitting needles knit, or dishes wash themselves, but it would never be useful in defence. He tried another. This time the wand was an attractive blue, a unicorn design on the handle. It matched the decorated box. A toy! Not so long ago, he'd thought that women should defend themselves, but he remembered that there were different 'defence' classes for women these days, and now any girl turning eleven would be offered these useless things.

He went back to the racks marked 'Wizards,' and pulled one out of its box. Not as powerful as his own old one, he could feel, but far more powerful than the ones for witches. Working quickly now, he helped himself to a few dozen wands, leaving the boxes discarded on the floor, and started to leave. On a sudden thought, he turned, frowning, and then cast his eyes around, quite slowly. From hundreds of wand-boxes, there came the sound of wands snapping in two. Only the wands for witches were left untouched. See how the bastards liked that!

Ollivander lived alone in the residence above his shop, as most of the shop-keepers of Diagon Alley did. The moment he woke in the morning, he knew there was something wrong with his shop. The warnings had been echoing in the words of the Seers for years. Night was coming, and this was part of it. He was an old man. It was time he retired. He had no apprentice, no-one to take over. He didn't care. He had a little house on the outskirts of Bournemouth, a Muggle town. He planned to drop out of sight of wizards. A Holocaust was beginning.

When he left, he ensured there were no completed wands left behind in the workshop, but ignored the useless wands for girls. He'd hated making those pathetic things. He didn't bother telling anyone he was leaving. It would be days before the Aurors investigated the abandoned shop.

Harry spilled the wands carelessly on a desk in the basement, and went upstairs to rejoin Sarah in bed. She asked, "Done?" and he confirmed that it was done.

The following week, he and Sarah started to map the wizard homes, schools and shopping centres of Europe as well as continuing to work on the map of British Anirage. There was also a file of individuals whom Harry had known. His year-mates: Dean Thomas? Vanished years ago, thought to have returned to life as a Muggle. Seamus Finnigan? Living in a remote part of Ireland with a wife and children. Neville was at the Longbottom Manor, and Ron at the Parkinson Manor. The girls? Lavender Brown, married name Bagman. It took a while to discover that Ludo was living alone, both his wives having left him. There were no children. There were others difficult to find, either in hiding or dead. Most of the Slytherins were still around, Crabbe and Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Draco of course.

There were hardly any Muggle-borns left living in the wizarding world, and he couldn't find the whereabouts of a single female Ravenclaw of his year. He only hoped they'd seen the warnings and left in good time.

Goblin Vlasna provided him with the information he asked for, for a price of course, but didn't volunteer information. Harry still had no idea that slavery was becoming so widespread, didn't know that women were no longer regarded as 'adult' until the age of twenty-five, and didn't know that there were moves to strip them of property rights. The population of British Anirage had now declined from around 5,500 immediately after Cerlikh, to 3,400, most of whom were male. There were few children.

***chapter end***


	27. Chapter 27

_Acknowledgements__: Iseria's character and prophecy devised by Iseriad, fanfiction author. *Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 27**_

It was early April, 2004, three months after Harry had visited Ollivanders. Every day now, he studied the newspapers, far more carefully than he had in the past. He knew perfectly well that the news was biased, that many things were not reported, but _Witch Weekly_ never spoke of anything serious, and neither the _Informer_ nor the _Quibbler_ were still in circulation. He'd asked Gr. Vlasna if there were any other papers, possibly underground papers, but the increasingly surly goblin had said not.

He sat straight up in his chair when he picked up that day's Daily Prophet and turned it over. The headlines blared, _'Neville and Genevra Longbottom Convicted of Treachery,'_ and in smaller letters, _'Sentenced to 15 years in Azkaban.'_ Treachery, which he translated as resisting the unjust laws of an unjust Ministry. He thought it no wonder. Ginny was bright, had as much or more power than any of her brothers, and had an element of sneakiness. As he read the article he was consumed with admiration. They would have had to use Veritaserum to get the information that had come out at the trial, but it appeared that she and Neville had become 'traitors' soon after the Ministry had stripped the vote from women. At the end of the lengthy article, there was a request for information from anyone who knew of any more members of the 'wicked traitors,' with an explanation that there had been magical protections in place that had prevented those caught from naming others involved. Harry was relieved. Maybe there were not too many 'traitors' in that terrible prison.

He was deep in thought when Sarah returned, chatting brightly about her visit to her brother. Voldemort had freed several of his Death Eaters from Azkaban once, but he'd done it with the Dementors as his allies. The wards. What had he known about the wards? Wards for a prison would be powerful ones, using the combined power of more than one. But he'd broken through Ollivander's wards without problem, as well as out of Hogwarts when there were particular wards to prevent him. Could he do it?

Ten days later, Augusta Longbottom sat with three old men, drinking tea, but mostly ignoring the array of cakes and other treats set before them by the house-elves. One of the old men said peevishly, "I'm not about to try. Anyway there are no young women left unclaimed."

"But Neville's the last of the line, otherwise. _And_ Head of House!"

Harry stood unseen in the corner. His Cloaking Charm was very strong, but it was not just that. Longbottom Manor was protected by some very strong wards these days and no-one was expecting intruders. Aurors had not been able to gain entry, even though it was now known as the headquarters of the Resistance.

"Fancy doing that to poor Ginny!"

"Better than Azkaban!"

Harry left them to their resentful complaints for another quarter hour, learning as much as he could before making himself known.

The group jumped when he dropped the concealing magic and politely excused himself. He used Aniragi. It was no longer in common use in Britain, but all Pure-bloods should know it. It was the old woman, Augusta, who pulled herself together long enough to demand who he was and what he was doing in her home.

"I plan to free the so-called traitors in Azkaban, I want to know if it is safe to bring them here."

Augusta was taken aback, but finally stumbled, "Yes, yes, can you do that?"

She'd spoken in English, and Harry waited as if interpreting her words to himself. He finally replied, again in Aniragi, "I expect I can do it. I do not like to see good people punished."

The three men looked at each other, and a drawn wand was quietly re-pocketed. It had taken this long for them all to come to their feet. One who appeared younger than the others, introduced himself, "I'm Algernon Croaker. I used to work for the Ministry. No more." He gave a slight formal bow, and waited for Harry to return it, before asking, "Your name, Sir?"

"I am Werner Pilzer. I am not a British wizard."

The old people were studying him, and he raised an eyebrow in typical arrogant Pure-blood fashion. Croaker glanced around, "Ah..."

Augusta stepped forward, "I am Augusta Longbottom. This is my home. I am the grandmother of Neville, who is Head of House." She indicated the others, "Theodore Longbottom and Hendrick Longbottom."

Harry bowed to her and kissed her hand, stiffly traditional, bowed to the others, and asked, "So how many Azkaban prisoners do you want released?"

"All of them. Normal criminals go to the Albuston prison these days, Azkaban only holds political prisoners."

"How many?"

"Nine adults. There are also five young girls caught conspiring to leave the country. We think they'll be well enough treated, and it's just to frighten them into doing what they're told."

"Fourteen then. Is it safe to bring them all here?"

"It is. We are quite capable of handling it from that point."

Harry nodded, "I'll bring them into here then."

Croaker said, "I can make a Portkey. I have the skills."

"A rope then, for fourteen. There are too many passengers for something silly like a shoe."

Without a word and with obvious knowledge, Croaker set some spells on a piece of rope, and said, "This will take everyone through the wards. It's multiple use, in case you need to take people individually. They could be in bad shape."

Augusta said, "We've not been allowed to visit, but we saw them at the trial, and they'd been beaten badly. We could see."

Harry wanted to ask about Ginny, but only said, "Women as well?"

"Not Ginevra. That's Neville's wife, and she's Pure-blood and quite young. They don't hurt women of child-bearing age, but she's not in Azkaban any more. You can't help her."

"What did they do to her?"

"They annulled the marriage to Neville because there were no children. It was not a Bond marriage, so she was available then for a Bonding to someone else. She's probably quite happy. She's with Trevor Lyons."

"Trevor?" Harry betrayed himself that time, and both Augusta and Croaker looked at him strangely. But Trevor had only been a year ahead of him at Hogwarts, and had never concealed his preference for males. He remembered listening open-mouthed when Seamus had explained the mechanics of male/male sex one night after lights-out. He'd been the only one who'd admitted not knowing, and Ron had said something about Malfoy probably being a ponce as well.

Augusta said, an austere tone to her voice, "It was a strong mutual Bond marriage, we are informed. The Lyons need an heir. Trevor is the last of the line, as Neville is. We are told that Ginevra consented."

Harry nodded, accepted the piece of rope, and Augusta asked, "Can you really free them?"

"I came here through strong wards, leaving them undisturbed. There are two Aurors guarding outside the gates. They never saw me. I hope I can bring them here. You should be prepared, maybe food, maybe a Healer if you know one you can trust."

Croaker said slowly "Through the wards..." No-one could go through such strong wards, and if they did, the wards would be left destroyed and with alarms ringing. Yet this wizard was claiming just that. He tried to feel his power. It was claimed some people could do that, but all he felt was his own disbelief.

Harry glanced at him, and disapparated, no nonsense about concentrating, or turning on the spot, just that one instant he was there, and then he was gone.

Harry had little trouble dropping the prison wards, stunning the guards, (and breaking their wands,) and then freeing the prisoners, fifteen rather than fourteen. Five trips, as some of the prisoners needed a lot of help. They hadn't mentioned that Tonks was there, so maybe she was new. She was in a cell next to the one with five teenage girls. Her face was badly bruised, and there was fresh blood on her clothing. She was able to hobble, but barely. He'd had trouble with her. It was as if she hadn't been able to shut up, demanding answers to her questions until he'd aimed his wand, and asked coldly, _"Silencio?_

She did as asked then, until he could drop her at the Longbottoms, where Poppy Pomfrey exclaimed in horror and went straight to her. Neville was the worst, lying unconscious in his cell, covered with blood, but days old, and with broken limbs sagging when he was lifted. He took him last, and was stunned to see the dignified Augusta Longbottom with tears on her face.

But Tonks could recognise him, or Poppy, and there were two others who'd been at school with him besides Neville. He didn't linger, just nodded curtly and disapparated.

Only a few minutes later, it occurred to him that he should have asked for more information about what was happening. It would be silly to go back, of course. Maybe they'd try and contact him. Maybe he should organise a 'Werner Pilzer' mail box from the Exchange Post Office just in case.

Once Poppy was satisfied that Neville was unlikely to die, Croaker used his mobile phone to call Gloria Proudfoot, former Auror, now working under Wallace Pettit in the Hall of Prophecies. The floo was monitored, and so were owls, but mobile phones were not, and nor was E-mail. The Resistance had resorted to using unconventional weapons.

One of the huddled girls asked, "Who was that?"

"A German wizard, it appears, a very powerful wizard."

"Lucky he's on our side, then!" Her name was Harriet. She'd been named after Harry Potter. Many children had been named after the infant who'd made the evil monster vanish, even some Pure-bloods.

Tonks was silent. She had a feeling she knew that wizard, and was counting over all the mature grey-headed men she knew. Had there been something odd about the feel of his body when he'd helped her stand? Probably just that she had bruises all over, and she heaved a sigh of relief. Her ordeal had only lasted a few days after all, and at least she hadn't been raped.

There was no mention at all of the incident in The Daily Prophet, but a few days later, Harry found some mail marked 'Pilzer' in a neat pile on his desk. The house-elves were very efficient, and Harry and Sarah were spoiled. Four house-elves, as the young ones were old enough to serve now, though with a tendency to squirm in undignified pleasure if the master indicated his gratitude. Harry took it for granted, but Sarah loathed the obsequious servitude.

Opening the package he found several thin newsletters. There was a covering letter, that they were very grateful for his intervention, and hoped that he would join with them in their fight to restore stability to British Anirage. There was also a warning not to leave the newsletters where they would be seen, and a request to know whether he would like to continue receiving the Resistance news. If he did, he was to ring a certain phone number, or E-mail, and the address was given. _'If you do not have the skills to communicate this way, a representative will meet you if you show yourself in the Hogshead Hotel, on the 7th April.'_ After careful thought, Harry decided to send an E-Mail. For security, he would make it from a remote address. It was unlikely that any wizard knew enough to find him from an E-mail address, but still... They could probably do with a donation as well. Organised resistance was expensive to maintain.

He studied the newsletters, surprised to find that the stranger was barely mentioned, just a list of names of those who'd been released from prison, that they were well on the way to recovery from the ill treatment they'd received, and that Azkaban was currently abandoned. The three-page newsletters were oddly formatted. There were large, brightly illustrated articles promoting health and beauty treatments, travelogues, and speculation about a report of a population of Snorkacks in Southern Roumania. These type of articles were brightly illustrated, but on the 2nd and 3rd page were smaller articles, even in smaller print, not illustrated, containing solid information. Presumably it was designed that a casual look would not reveal the serious nature of the Resistance newsletter.

Harry didn't plan to get involved. It was civil war among wizards, and he didn't count himself as a wizard these days. It would be interesting to see how it developed. Gr. Vlasna's reports had been unsatisfactory lately, but now he had a contact. There was one thing he did want to do though. Azkaban was a vile place, and if it was uninhabited... An hour later, he surveyed the pile of tumbled stones that had been the most feared wizard prison of any. No more people would suffer here. Even the worst criminal deserved better than that.

There was a bitter wind blowing, and Harry's long hair whipped about his face. It was the only sign in his appearance that he could be a wizard. For Harry, it simply felt right that way, and he'd resisted occasional suggestions that his hair should be normally cut. Tremaine Lassiter very much disapproved of it. He'd still had short, blonde hair when he'd married Sarah.

There had been no information about Muggle slaves in the newsletter. It may have been what started the unrest, but for the Resistance, the issue seemed trivial next to the treatment of Aniragi women.

_hphphphp_

Draco Malfoy checked the prophecies page of the Daily Prophet, seeing it was as Frionne said, a collection of thinly disguised admonitions to accept the regime. One for instance, _'We all must know our place, Our duty, we must face, For Ani it is place, For Ania, satin and lace. Only thus will Anirage survive.' _

Most were quite subtle, but the message was the same, that women who shirked their duty to Wizardkind would be punished, that those accepting their place as nothing more than child-bearers, would be rewarded. What a woman was supposed to do with herself if she had no children was not explained.

Frionne was sleeping very badly these nights, and wanted them to remove to France as soon as possible. Yet when Draco had asked if France was any safer for them, she'd stared at him, and whispered, "Nowhere is safe for us any more. I see an end to your family, an end to mine, the Carlyles, maybe an end to everyone's family."

"It's not an end for Muggles though, is it? Not some global catastrophe? Muggles are saying the seas are going to rise and drown us. It's not that, is it?"

"Muggles? No. It's just us. I think Anirage might be doomed."

"So any idea how to prevent this doom?"

Frionne shook her head miserably. There was 'The Protector' some prophecies spoke of, but who was the Protector?

Draco said positively, "I cannot leave here now. There is another Convocation of Vanie next week." There was a lot of dispute among the Vanie these days, a few saying that 'the Changes' had to be reversed, but more throwing their full support behind the Minister. The resentful talk was that it was the fault of the Southern Alliance Dassier. It was she and her cursed 'Trentaine' who were undermining the needed and rational reforms. If both Britonaum and the Northern Alliance put on some pressure, maybe Dasse Portat would stop interfering in their affairs, maybe even hand back their more valuable escaped citizens.

_hphphphp_

Wallace Pettit cast his eyes over the huddle in the corner. Gloria, Sue and Barbara plotting again. They'd never taken him into their confidence, and he preferred it that way. He was being disloyal to his family by condoning it, - if there was an 'it,' but had refused when a senior administrator suggested they be split up, insisting that he needed them. On the desk in front of him were several sheets of paper, each containing the words of a prophecy. It appeared that the Dragon was awake and watching them. They must find the Protector, who was the only one who could stop him. Or stop _it_. 'The Dragon' was seldom given a gender. _Was_ Severus Snape the Protector?

He'd never interfered with the comings and goings of the women, and when Sue's husband appeared, he only casually waved permission for him to talk to her. Grant said, "You'll be interested in this as well, Wallace." He glanced around impressively, and then his eyes dropped to the plate of cakes on Wallace's desk. He grinned, "They look after you."

"Sue does and Barbara does. Gloria thinks I should bring _her_ cakes."

Gloria twinkled at him, "I don't like cooking."

Sue asked, "What is it Grant?"

"_Very_ important news. I might be able to remember if I had coffee and cake."

Wallace raised an eyebrow at Barbara, who did as asked, and then said sternly, "Only because I know your leg's aching, Wallace. I'm not admitting anything about a woman's place."

"Thank you, Barb."

At that moment there was another visitor, entering urgently and almost shouting, "Gringotts is closing. No more Goblin bank." Wallace dropped his coffee. Gringotts had been serving Wizardkind for hundreds of years, ever since the last Goblin war.

Barbara asked, "Have they closed the doors then? What about our vaults?"

"We're to remove all valuables from vaults by next week, and any gold remaining after that will be transferred to a Muggle account, less 10% which they retain. In the announcement they state that identification documents acceptable by Muggles will be available to every account holder, and all their family. They're to finally close at the end of May."

"They must have been planning this for months then."

In front of Gringotts, there was a yelling mob, but the group of fierce looking goblins in battle armour were only allowing a few in at a time. The identification documents were already prepared. Most of the Pure-bloods refused to have anything to do with the Muggle world, but that would have to change.

For Harry, the first notification was a letter from Goblin Vlasna, briefly stating that his remaining investments in wizarding businesses had been liquidated, and the proceeds placed in his Muggle account. Only in the last paragraph was there a bare announcement that Gringotts was closing, and that it had been a pleasure doing business with the dragon.

Harry had no idea what dragon he was talking about, but was trying to remember his History of Magic. Surely that goblins ran the only wizarding bank in Britonaum had something to do with the final settlement of the Goblin Wars, centuries before. It couldn't be a declaration of war again - could it? But the note was civil enough, and after all, he supposed the goblins had a perfect right to cease providing banking services if they chose. The other wizarding countries had banks run by wizards, and probably many simply used Muggle banks. Everyone needed some Muggle currency and most wizard shops accepted it, even if begrudgingly. He wrote a letter of thanks for Gr. Vlasna for the advice, and his help for the past years. There was no other action required.

Lionel Pettit, Minister for Magic, hunched over his desk, head in his hands. Everything was falling to pieces. He'd been complaining to his wife the previous evening over dinner, and she'd offered a solution in a particularly sweet voice. It had been a long time since he'd listened to any woman, but he'd been hopeful for just a moment. She was confined in her own section of the house now. He didn't know whether he ever wanted to see her again. That she could say _that_ to him! A respectable Pure-blood woman, a _Kent_, renowned for their high standards and beautiful women, not that there were many left now.

After a long time, he heaved himself to his feet, and started listing the artefacts he had to remove from his vault. A _Muggle_ account. How would that work?

_hphphphp_

Iseria d'Angouleme was an odd friend for Trieneke, or at least that was what Severus Snape thought. Trieneke admitted that her friend was a bit strange sometimes, dreamy, as if not quite present, but maintained that she had a considerable, if unusual intelligence. Iseria had a little girl the same age as their Berthe, and while the three girls were playing together, Snape was seated with Iseria's husband, Jimmy, while the two women discussed Iseria's desire to return to teaching.

But suddenly, Iseria turned toward the men, and murmured, "The Protector."

Jimmy raised his eyes to the sky, but produced a small notebook from his pocket, and was ready when his wife started a soft chant,

_ "The omen was dismissed, _

_ The harbinger was aroused, _

_ The twilight has come, _

_ and the Child of Night has returned to his power. _

_ His ire has been kindled, _

_ Make an accord for the Anirage will collapse." _

Iseria's eyes refocused, and she said softly but definitely, "It is up to the Protector. You have a major role to play. Only you can stem the collapse."

Trieneke asked, trying not to show her scepticism, "You're saying that Severus is some sort of a Protector?"

"A disaster is coming. Only the Protector can stop the flames of the dragon now."

Snape said sourly, "How can _I_ make any sort of an accord? I have no power. I'm in exile."

Iseria shook her head. "I don't know. The words came to me, and also the conviction that you are 'The Protector.' There have been many prophecies about a protector. He is the only one who can prevent another Holocaust. You are the Protector."

Snape was very dubious about any prophecies, but tried to be polite to his wife's friend. Only once they were gone did he scoff at the whole idea, but Trieneke pointed out that Harry Potter had had two prophecies come true about him.

Snape replied, "He was simply a wizard of unusual inherent power, who reacted to a threat, twice if you include the one when he was a baby. Prophecies had nothing to do with it," and he pulled the copy of Iseria's words from his pocket, and said, "They always called him The Child of Light. This one refers to the Child of _Night_."

"He's hardly any sort of a child now, is he? He'd have to be in his twenties."

"Twenty-three. But it can't be anything to do with him. He's crippled, remember?"

***chapter end***


	28. Chapter 28

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Kreighley: Ross Davies, manager, Donna, a psychologist, who sometimes acts as Counsellor for the Kreighley boys. Harry was known as Ricky Drayton when he arrived at Kreighley, and is now officially Ricky Lee Chase, known as Lee Chase. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 28**_

As the months passed, Kevin's speech was beginning to be laboured, though he could still make himself understood. More and more often, he was choking on his food, which carried with it the possibility of inhaling food and winding up with a lung infection. He was to be fitted with the voice synthesiser quite soon, and had agreed to the suggested operation to avoid the necessity of normal eating, but still refused the operation to strengthen his spine with rods. He said the pain was bearable, and better than a major operation.

Harry visited him every few days, and Kevin was beginning more often simply to think what he wanted to say rather than trying to vocalise. Harry found no difficulty in picking up this type of thinking in words, and refrained from prying further. Most deeper thoughts were not organised into words. He thought it would not be long before he was asked for the final favour.

Ross was grateful for his help. He knew that some of his boys spoke to Lee who wouldn't dream of speaking to any other adult. Kevin seemed to have the same gift. He'd seen him listening closely to young Luke, who'd been almost unmanageable to begin with. He was another who had scars on his body from ill treatment.

Ross Davies was actually quite pleased with himself. He'd always wanted Lee (or Ricky) to become involved with his boys. He'd been leader of the boys when he'd been one of them, though he'd seldom appeared to assert himself, and he was quite sure that he'd helped several of them steer a straighter path. Tom and Jack, 'the blackbirds,' needed someone like that. It was a shame they hadn't taken to Lee. Most of the others liked him, and importantly, accepted his authority. And soon there would be 'Blue' as he called himself, though his name was William, William Swallow. He'd met him the other day, a beautiful boy, blonde and with a face that looked all sweet innocence. He'd been with a foster family since the police had intervened in a plot to sell the boy. It had been an auction on a 'boy-love' site on the internet. Luckily the police had stopped it, and his step-father was in gaol. His mother was deceased.

He'd always thought that Lee's history had to be something like that, except that Lee had escaped his abuser, while William hadn't been touched. He didn't know whether he even knew just what he'd escaped. Donna had said to leave it to her to explain it to him. It was quite likely the other boys would find out what had happened, they always seemed to know these things, and certainly William should also know.

There were three others expected as well. That meant a full house, twenty-four boys. He'd always resisted suggestions that the Home be expanded. Boys became lost in big institutions, and some of the staff were tempted to cruelty. He'd seen it often in his earlier career. The other boys that were to come to him, - John Wentworth was still in hospital with severe burns, and would be for weeks yet. He'd lost his parents and two young siblings in the fire. And then there were the brothers, Sean and Tighe Swan, eleven and thirteen. Their story was one he'd seen so often, parents who'd ruined themselves with drugs while their children were neglected, sometimes fostered out, sometimes abandoned for days at a time. They'd reacted typically to the unstable environment, fighting, swearing, stealing, general thuggery. At least they hadn't been physically abused, and he was hopeful they'd straighten out with a stable home.

He stood up, and paced around the Home. It was peaceful. Except for Kevin, the boys were at school. He noticed Lionel forking over a garden, and wandered over to talk to him. Lionel had been a Kreighley boy himself; he was of low intelligence, but had a home and job, with people around who cared for him. He even had a girlfriend, though Ross hoped they wouldn't have children. She was not much brighter than Lionel.

_hphphphp_

Fred and George Weasley were discussing one of their boys, Plato, who was lying on the floor, semi-conscious. They'd become a bit carried away, and the wounds were beyond their ability to easily fix. Plato had been their own private pet, not for sale. But he was damaged, and in any case, was getting a little old for their taste. Still, they'd learned something from him, - that the slave spells broke down if the abuse was sufficiently severe. Fred had a smear of blood on his face, though the broken nose had been repaired quite easily.

Fred finally stretched, glanced at the silent body on the floor, aimed his wand, and said, _"Stupify." _ The boy jerked with a muffled cry, but then ceased to breathe. A stun spell was invariably fatal for a Muggle. The body was vanished. Tom and Lydia Davidson would never know what had happened to their son.

Fred and George turned to discussion of whether it was best to keep their money in the Muggle account, or maybe to keep it in their home. Someone had told them that the Muggle authorities thought people should pay _tax_ when they had a large income, and having such an amount in a bank would lead to questions. The goblins had left a real dilemma for wizards.

There would soon be another problem. On the 1st of June, the goblins did one last task before leaving Gringotts forever. Wizards had long forgotten that goblins held the spells that kept house-elves in servitude. The enchantments were dropped, and house-elves all over the wizarding world, straightened from their chores, and an ancestral memory surfaced. They were not meant to be servants for wizards. There was a place, a place in another realm. _That_ was where they were meant to be.

For Harry and Sarah, notification came with the sudden appearance of a strange house-elf in the garden where they were working, and Harry stared a moment before asking "Dobby?"

Dobby gave a low bow, but his head was up and he was beaming, "House-elves is all free now, Harry Potter Sir. I come to see you is all right."

There was another voice behind him, a disapproving voice, Bandehm, one of Harry's house-elves, "Enough of that slave talk, Dobby. We are real elves now."

"Yes, we are." Dobby looked earnestly at Harry, "I wanted to help you, you see? Both times you were at Hogwarts, but the headmaster Bound me to Hogwarts, and I had to do what the headmaster said, and headmasters after him. I wasn't allowed to go near you, even after he died. I wanted to. Other house-elves wanted to help, and we couldn't. You understand? We never abandoned you, like wizards did. I wanted you to know before we leave."

Harry smiled at him, "Thank you for coming. But I don't quite understand. You are free? No more slave talk?"

Bandehm answered him, "We are all free. We will serve you and the mistress your lunch when it is time, but then you will need to be hiring servants."

"Yourself?"

Bandehm's voice turned a little dreamy, "We have our own place, all of us. Our children's children will never know servitude."

Harry extended a hand, "You have been a friend, and I will miss you. But it is good. No-one should be enslaved."

Dobby pushed himself in, beaming, "And me? Will you shake my hand?"

"Of course I will shake your hand. Are you going to visit for a little, or are you in a hurry to leave?"

"I leave now. Winky is happy. I've never seen her happy before. Maybe we'll mate now, and there will be little ones."

"I do hope so. Are you able to visit sometimes?"

"It is not here. We cannot visit," and he bowed, "I wish you all happiness with your Sarah-ladywife."

Before Harry could return the sentiment, there was a loud pop and the house-elf, now a free Elf, was gone.

After lunch it was the turn of the others, and Harry and Sarah said goodbye to Bandehm, Tigsni, Isbek and Kubo, no longer servants, and now standing proud and tall. Harry thought it was more than a matter of stance, that there was a real physical difference, that they _were_ taller, their eyes less enormous, their faces less ugly.

Other house-elves were also leaving their former masters. Some masters were granted the courtesy of notice, at other places, the former servants just vanished.

Hogwarts was in trouble for a time, but managed to obtain sufficient human staff to continue at least until the exams were finished. The students were then sent home, two weeks earlier than usual.

_hphphphp_

Hermione studied the packaging of a box containing after-shave. As well as the pleasant smell, the potion gave the wearer a feeling of well-being. There was also a subtle compulsion spell. The user would keep coming back for more. The product was very popular in Britonaum and Nadlan, and her distributor had told her that large quantities were being smuggled into Sudlan as well. And while no others bothered with the few hundred wizards still living in America, she had insisted that they not be forgotten. Sales were very good.

She put it down when a girl hesitantly entered the hospital wing. She was always kind to her patients, not only that her cures were quick, painless and efficient, but that she kept them in longer than needed sometimes when she thought they needed the break. There was one in the far bed now, who'd been severely punished by Professor Wikan. Her complaint to Karkaroff had been quite rudely dismissed with the assertion that caning was a normal punishment, and never did anyone any harm. The boy would recover, Hermione would see to that, but she also saw to the teacher. She was never blatant, but Henrik Wikan would not survive to teach another year.

Later that day she was to be picked up by one of the Healers from the Nadlan Hospital. She was not permitted to wander without an escort, but she was respected for her ability to cure difficult patients. There was still an occasional wizard suffering from 'Muente's disease.' She liked that one. Not only did she have the satisfaction of seeing a wizard's humiliation when she inspected his most private parts, but the curse could be held responsible for the increasing incidence of sterility among wizards. No-one would think of blaming the helpful school nurse, just as no-one would suggest that the reason for her successes with hard-to-cure patients might be that she'd studied Muggle medicine as well as wizard Healing.

When she walked Gajevic Hospital, there was also the advantage that she was viewed as valuable, therefore less likely to be killed. She knew now why there were so few Muggle-born in the Northern European countries, - they were quietly killed as soon as they were identified.

_hphphphp_

Ginny lay in bed regarding the peaceful face of her new husband. Most of the Marriage Bonds these days were strong for the woman, and weak or sometimes not at all for the man. It made for a very unequal relationship. The reason that it was different for herself and Trevor was that it had needed a strong Bond to force him to forget that it was male lovers he liked, not women. He'd done it for the sake of an heir, and she'd agreed in order to escape Azkaban. She'd been imprisoned for three weeks, then the trial, the horrifying sentence of fifteen years, and the threat that the guards were invited to be as rough as they pleased.

Tonks had been so brave when they'd attacked her, but in the end she'd screamed. The girls had been screaming as well, that they'd never run away again, and would marry where they were told. The latest Resistance newsletter stated that they were safe in France. Probably Tonks had gone as well. She'd done an enormous amount for the cause, but enough was enough. And anyway, there were new recruits now, notably Rita Skeeter, who was so skilled at obtaining vital information.

She'd saved her news, and now she kissed Trevor awake, and told him she was pregnant. Trevor was delighted. To have a child, hopefully an heir for the Lyons House, but in any case, a child. He would be a father.

Trevor was a nice young man, just a couple of years older than Ginny. He was sometimes quite appalled at the ruthlessness of his fellow Vanie. But his father was dead, and he'd taken the oaths in his place as was his duty. They were binding oaths, and all he could do was argue against the foolish ideas of Michael Pettit, Kosan Brooks, of Eric Bowen and the rest. He was not alone. Tonius Carlyle was arguing strongly for rationality, and so was Draco Malfoy. A few others, but most were convinced that urgent and extreme action was needed to recover their young women, and to ensure the survival of Britonaum as the strongest of the Aniragi nations.

After the next Vanie Meeting, he returned thoroughly depressed, wandered the gardens alone for a long time, and finally suggested to Ginny that they close the Manor and leave the country, not to France, as she immediately assumed, but somewhere else, somewhere there were no wizards, not even the occasional fugitive from justice, as one found in Australia.

Ginny put her hands to her abdomen, and asked, "The little one?"

"I don't want a girl to be born into this world. If it's a boy, I guess we could think again."

"The Healer said she'd be able to tell us in another few weeks."

"I cannot leave just temporarily, unless I want to lose the title of Vanie. We are all expected to be here. Our world is in crisis."

Ginny said dryly, "I noticed."

"There could be war, you know."

"I don't think that women will take up arms against their husbands, brothers and sons. That's what men's ultimate power is, that in the end, women won't act against family, while men don't seem to care very much."

"I care."

"Not many do. Fancy allowing your daughter to be sent to Azkaban just for trying to escape a forced Bonding with an old man!"

"It is vital the Old Families continue. You know that."

"_Do_ I know that? If it means cruelty? A lot have gone already, and I don't think that Neville will re-marry, which means that the Longbottoms are finished."

"I asked for you to get you out of there. I've always admired you."

Ginny put a hand to his face, and caressed it gently, "Yes, my husband." But she'd loved Neville as well. Trevor was tender and gentle, but Neville... a fleeting smile crossed her face. Who would have thought that Neville would so love sex? And be so good at it? Trevor wasn't, though she guessed he may have been with a male lover, as it seemed that nature had designed him for.

She didn't give Trevor an answer that day. Her role in the Resistance was too important. She was not even watched, as it seemed the authorities assumed that being Bonded to the Lyons Vanie sufficient to keep her loyal. Probably it would have been - if Trevor had been loyal. But Trevor was Bonded to Ginny as much as she was to him, and he respected her very much.

***chapter end***


	29. Chapter 29

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Keighley boys: * Paul was 'the cupboard kid,' now aged 16. * Travis is the one with Diabetes, just turned 17. * Staffy was originally called Theodore or 'Stinky.' He is 15. * Nicholas Bailey, (Nick) is now a qualified lawyer. * A 'Demter Guardian' is a term for the guardian for a Muggle-born or Muggle-raised wizard when in the magical world. _

_Acknowledgments__: Iseria's character and prophecy devised by Iseriad, fanfiction author. * Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 29**_

Wallace Pettit paced the floor, growling. He hadn't been permitted to enter France, and he was sure it was the only chance to save them all.

Gloria was absent, while Barbara and Sue were sorting the latest prophecies. Only one did not foretell doom and destruction. _'Darkness prevails, but Light will come again. Have faith in the cleansing fire.' _ It was by Harry Spicer, a Half-blood, only about twenty. Wallace hadn't heard of him before, and had no idea if it was a true prophecy or invented for political purposes. As a Half-blood, he would be facing discrimination. The feeling against those of impure blood was becoming worse all the time.

Gloria swept into the room with her usual air of confidence, and brandished tickets in front of Wallace. "You and I will go find Severus Snape. It's what you want, isn't it?"

Wallace looked at her blankly, "They're not allowing any males into the country."

"Thousands of men enter daily, by air, boat, even by rail or car. The Muggles have a tunnel remember?"

"Go Muggle?"

"Of course, go Muggle. Haven't you been complaining that we'll _all _have to go Muggle once the Holocaust is upon us?"

"I guess…." Wallace was a Pettit, one of the so-called Great Houses of Anirage. Such wizards had little to do with anything Muggle, though almost all of them had had to learn to cope with Muggle banks. But Gloria had a mother who was Muggle, a very beautiful black woman from the West Indies. She knew the ways of Muggles as well as the ways of wizards. It had served her well as an Auror, and it served her now even better as leader of the Active Arm of the Women's Resistance. She was unmarried. Half-bloods were not regarded as desirable partners.

_hphphphp_

Severus Snape was working in his Potions shop when his assistant announced that he had visitors. Snape had his wand ready to hand when he greeted Wallace and Gloria, but it didn't seem that they were dangerous to him.

The Protector. They said that he was the Protector, just as Iseria had told him. According to Wallace he had to act to prevent a Holocaust, that Harry Potter was a very powerful wizard, and that he would bring death and destruction, - 'Night.' He listened carefully as Wallace went on, reeling off prophecies he'd apparently memorised, though he did have a list.

Snape summed up in a cold voice, "So because of your interpretation of a few prophecies, you think I should kill a young man who's been victimised and crippled."

"Crippled or not, and I don't think he is crippled, he can still cause us enormous trouble," and Gloria asked, "Have you heard of bombs? If he convinces the Muggle authorities that there are wizards among them, they could use just a half dozen bombs to wipe out every Aniragia there is. But we think he has power. How otherwise did he escape from Hogwarts in the first place?"

"He always said there was a helper."

"Yourself?"

"I did not help him escape."

"Then how? Even with a helper, he should not have been able to escape. We've looked into it."

"If you're right, maybe he only needs a talking to. I heard something about _making an accord_.'

Gloria said, "I don't like the direction in which the Minister has taken our world, but I don't want it destroyed."

Snape's eyes turned to the obvious Half-blood, and he asked harshly, "Why not? It hasn't done much for you, has it?"

Gloria replied, acid in her voice, "A war between the species would be catastrophic. You know that."

"I'll think about it."

Gloria and Wallace glanced at each other, and Snape repeated, "You've told me what you wanted to, and you, Mr. Pettit, had best return to England before our Aurors discover an unauthorised wizard in their area."

Gloria nodded, "You are right of course. Wallace will leave, but I have some business to conduct here. May I come and see you tomorrow?"

"Do you have any information that I don't already know?"

"Maybe," and Snape said in a resigned tone, "If you have to."

Wallace glanced at her, and said, "I'll be off then." He felt a little irked by Gloria making it so obvious she was in charge, and he didn't like 'going Muggle.' He didn't know when Gloria would return. She'd only said that she wanted to 'catch up with a few friends.' It was probably one of those things best not to know about. Gloria. A beautiful, highly intelligent woman, thirty years his junior but unmarried. He'd considered asking her to marry him, but it would mean soiling the Pettit line with a Half-blood. He sighed. The Holocaust was coming. What did bloodlines matter?

Two days later, news came that two Pettit sisters aged fifteen and thirteen had vanished from Hogwarts in spite of enhanced security. No girl should have been able to escape. The eldest had been promised to Tiberius McLaggen, who was still childless. Wallace thought she couldn't be blamed for running. Van Tiberius McLaggen did not have a good reputation. His first wife was almost never seen.

_hphphp_

Severus Snape was still undecided. Harry Potter, who'd been his Demter ward. It would be quite easy to track him down. He even knew that he was married to a woman called Sarah, though he didn't know about the Chases. To find him, he'd have to return to England. He'd been warned that if he ever set foot in any part of Britain again, he'd be killed. It was the Council of Vanie who had threatened him, but only two of the original Vanie were still alive. Maybe the sentence of death was forgotten.

Ten days later, he stood silently in a street of Falmouth, watching three boys in Kreighley uniform. He was masked with a Cloaking Spell, and wore inconspicuous Muggle clothing. The information that Lee Chase would be here came from Ross Davies, who'd been made to forget he'd ever seen the man who'd once called himself 'Protector.'

He hadn't seen Harry yet, but as three boys passed, one said, "Lee, can we go to the docks next? I like to see the fishing fleet."

"They'll probably all be out at the moment, Travis, but sure we'll go."

Snape blinked, suddenly seeing the young man quite close to him. A Cloaking Spell as he was using himself? But the Muggle boys could see him perfectly easily. So _could_ he have magic, or was it just that he somehow hadn't noticed him before?

One of the boys jeered, "No good you thinking you can be a fisherman, Travis. You're too fat!"

Travis said in an annoyed tone, "I'm perfectly fit. Just that it's too erratic a life-style." Travis was becoming a large young man, solid, but a lot fitter than when he'd arrived at Kreighley with undiagnosed Juvenile Diabetes. He was a responsible boy who was careful to keep his condition under control. He said he'd never have children though. Type 1 Diabetes was hereditary, and while the condition was manageable, it was not curable.

Staying very close to Lee was a much younger boy who reminded Snape of Harry as he'd been when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts. Small for his age, untidy black hair, and tending to look downwards whenever he noticed attention on him. He'd despised the boy then.

Harry looked down at the boy who clung so close, and asked, "Dallas? The docks?"

The child looked up briefly, and nodded. He'd only come a week before. Harry had collected him from a large London institution. Travis said kindly, "It's not as crowded as here. You'll like the docks."

Snape silently followed as the group walked toward the docks, relieved that Harry showed no sign of noticing him.

Harry and his group joined more Kreighley boys who were looking at one of the tourist boats. Snape lost sight of Harry again, though he knew that he was among them. It had to be some sort of Cloaking Magic, maybe only geared to wizards, though he'd never heard of such a spell. If Harry could do that, then he definitely still had his magic.

He searched for the small boy who'd been staying close, reminded himself that Harry was definitely there, closed his eyes tightly, opened them, and could suddenly see him again, not hiding, right out there in the open. He sighed. So all the time Harry had his magic, and had taken enormous care that no-one knew. Warren Pettit had been right about that. Was he right that he should be killed to avoid the Holocaust? It would be easy enough to simply get him from behind. It didn't appear as if he felt under any threat.

Harry Potter, Child of Destiny. Voldemort had tried to kill him as a baby because of a prophecy, and later, Dumbledore had handed him over to Voldemort because of another prophecy. Was he to be killed because of a third? If just one death could save them a Holocaust? Prophecies were stupid things, sometimes self-fulfilling, at other times they made no sense at all. Harry was just going about his business, living as a Muggle, hiding from wizards. That he had magic made little difference. If he was the dragon, as Wallace asserted, all wizards had to do was to refrain from interfering with him.

He watched a while longer as Harry joined a couple of older boys on a park bench next to one in a wheelchair. Snape shook his head at that one, skinny, twisted, crippled. Mindless probably. There was a band around his chest to keep him from slumping out of his chair. He'd never seen a wizard that much of a wreck. There were a few words, and the older ones moved off, a bigger boy taking the hand of the small one, who looked back as if wanting to stay with Harry.

Harry casually tucked the blanket more securely around Kevin, making a warming charm as he did, and asked, "OK?"

Kevin answered in his mind, _Thank you. _

"Do you want to move?"

_I'm quite happy here. I like to watch people._

"We could get you onto the tourist cruise if you want."

_ Too hard. Don't worry about it. Have Tom and Jack been behaving? _

"As far as I know. Ross was keeping them under his eye."

_I talked to them the other day, pointed out that they're quickly getting bigger, and without the cuteness factor, they'll be in real trouble soon. That it won't be thought of as just mischief once they're older._

"Do you think they took notice?"

_I think so. And Luke. He was talking to me about what it was like before he came here. Some so-called foster-parents are awful._

"I've heard some stories."

_ I told him to ask Ross, and maybe see if Nicholas Bailey might like to take on the case. At the very least they should be stopped from ever having foster kids again._

Kevin moved his head slightly, and his mouth quirked in a slight grin, _The other kids talk to me. I was wondering about you, Lee. If __you're__ going to tell me more of your story one day?_

Harry looked at him warily, "What do you want to know?"

_What happened to your family? There should be grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Why are you all alone? _

"I'm not alone any more," and Harry smiled with a great contentment. "I've got not just Sarah, but Dan, Jason and Mark as brothers, a sister, - it's nice to have a sister, parents, more distant relatives..."

_You were though. I want to know what hurt you so much._

When Harry only shrugged, and stared out onto the water, Kevin used the flat metallic voice of the voice synthesizer. "Tell me," and added, _I won't be telling anyone._

Harry asked, "Why? Why do you want to know?"

_I'll be leaving this world soon. You're going to help me. I just want to know._

Harry took a deep breath, what had hurt him most? He'd told Kevin of the magical world before, of portraits that moved, trick stairs, Boggarts and Merpeople and Centaurs. He didn't want to tell anyone, but Kevin was different. Soon he would be making the magic that ended his life. The least he could do was to explain a bit.

He stared away into the distance as he spoke. "My parents and grandparents are all dead. I was raised by an aunt and her husband, treated much like Dallas was treated. Then I went to the school of magic, and that seemed so wonderful. Miraculous. It was exciting learning magic, but also, I was never whipped or starved, or cut about, or only by accident. It felt like home, my first home, like I belonged, as I'd never belonged. So I guess I trusted them too much. What happened is that I was deliberately made weak and ill, and handed over to Voldemort. He was the exceptionally powerful wizard who killed my parents, and was responsible for the deaths of my grandparents. Dumbledore, he was the one in charge of me, thought that under the specific conditions of a prophecy, I could kill Voldemort. It is the betrayal that hurts me. I've been betrayed since by people I thought I could trust, by a woman who liked to act as if she was a mother to me. She gave me the first hug I can remember, like a mother's hug. I nearly cried the first time she did that. She used to say I was too thin, and try and feed me up. But then she was promised a reward, and set me up to be taken prisoner. Other times too. Each time I've escaped, but I will never again trust a wizard. I am not Anirage any more, I _will_ not be Anirage. I use magic because it is convenient, but Aniragi society is corrupt, evil. They turned on me, but they've also turned on those without pure Aniragi heredity, and even on their own women, making them subservient in the same way as certain backward and barbaric cultures do."

_Like Saudi Arabia._

"Like that, probably worse. It's actually like our own culture just a few hundred years ago, so maybe Arab cultures should not be singled out."

_You trusted them to look after you. And then they did that._

"Then they did that," and he looked at Kevin with a crooked smile, "Enough?"

_Enough. I'm glad you told me. Can we go to the end of the pier now? I can see the first of the fleet coming in._

Snape still watched, but he watched the other Kreighley boys as well. They were healthy and reasonably well behaved. He noticed a couple of boys shoving each other in an apparent attempt to push each other into the water, but a sharp word from an older boy put a stop to it. And that small boy who'd been staying so close to Harry. He was with another boy now, staying just as close. He looked like a cringing stray dog, desperate for some kindness.

_Should_ he kill Harry? The boy was minding his own business, making his own life in his own world. Iseria's prophecy, _The omen was dismissed, The harbinger was aroused, The twilight has come, and the Child of Night has returned to his power. His ire has been kindled, Make an accord for the Anirage will collapse. _It didn't quite fit. Harry didn't look angry, and he'd never been called the 'Child of Night.' Snape shrugged and decided to call on a few old friends. He would not kill his Demter ward for no good reason.

Draco Malfoy was Vanie, but had privately told Snape that whatever others did, he would never act against him. He greeted him with pleasure, ignored a pair of small boys who raced past, and introduced him to Frionne and to Venetia, his wives, though they'd both known him as students at Hogwarts. Venetia raised a polite eyebrow, and asked, "Are you wise to be here, Professor Snape? I heard your life was threatened."

"I have good reason to be here."

Draco said, "Do not tell _anyone _he was here, either of you. Venetia is correct, Severus. You are not safe."

"Here?"

"Here is safe."

"Then tell me what's been happening. I'm right out of touch."

Snape was not as out of touch as he said. He and Trieneke were friendly with Narcissa and Mary, and one of Trieneke's friends was now fostering three teenage girls escaped from Hogwarts.

Venetia herself brought him some food, saying that maybe it was best if the servants didn't know he was here. Frionne was very quiet, her head was buzzing with half-heard words sounding in her ears.

Snape eventually turned the conversation to Harry Potter, but Draco said casually, "He hasn't been seen for years. Living Muggle it's presumed. There are many who still want him dead of course."

"That business about having him as a slave?"

"Forgotten as far as I know."

Frionne asked, "A slave?"

Draco said quite kindly, "Men's talk now, my love. You might just clear up a little, and remember not to say anything."

The men both waited until the women had left before resuming their conversations about slaves. According to Draco, almost every man who could afford it had two or three slaves.

"Lucius had slaves, didn't he?"

"Always," and he chuckled, "The Ministry was harassing us for a time, looking for Dark objects, and each time there was an inspection, they walked straight past the slave quarters, and never noticed them."

"You don't?"

"I don't feel the need. Two lovely wives, though still no children. It looks like the next Malfoy Vanie will be Millar Malfoy, who runs a construction firm in Germany. Quite a comedown for us."

"At least there is an heir. I heard that several families are in trouble."

"Yes."

Draco sipped his coffee, and finally said, "You should leave, Severus. You are not safe here, and you are not safe in the Sudlan. You should take your family and go to a place where no-one knows you, and never come back."

"Specific threats?"

Draco opened his mouth, but he was under the effect of the Vanie oath. He repeated, "You should go to a place where no-one knows you and never come back."

Snape turned his penetrating gaze on him, and Draco suddenly shuddered, "Don't do that."

"Sorry. So about Harry Potter. Has anyone mentioned rumours of him still having magic?"

"Crippled. Helpless. It's been suggested that Binding Bracelets be used on the Muggle-borns who want to leave the wizarding World, but there was only that one pair in existence, and no-one has the skills to make more."

"So what happens to the Muggle-born?"

"They are carefully watched. Nothing else as far as I know."

"Is there any indication that Pettit will be brought down at the next election?"

"The Pettits are still strong, and he has a great deal of support. There are enemies of course, but they're not powerful enemies. He still has some time before his term is up, but then I fully expect him to be re-elected."

"And the women no longer vote."

Draco said wryly, "The wives blast me for it every now and then. Bond marriages or not, they can still think for themselves."

Snape went on to his next visit soon after that, Poppy Pomfrey. He'd been friendly with Poppy for many years. She'd helped him look after Harry when he'd had his eyes fixed. Had he had magic then? But he still wore the Binding Bracelets at that time, so would not have been able to use it if he did have. So at some stage after they were removed, he must have picked up his wand, and just had a go. Snape smiled as he imagined the boy's uttermost surprise and delight when he discovered he had not been crippled after all. But that time when he'd been blindfolded and helpless while he and Poppy had looked after him, - he'd been totally vulnerable, and yet had trusted them. How could he turn on him now? Whatever anyone said, prophecies were stupid things. Only fools acted on prophecies.

He talked a long time with Poppy, - mutual acquaintances, politics, the school, Snape's daughters, how bright they were. Poppy didn't mention the reason she'd returned to Britain, or why she lived in such a remote cottage, and Snape said nothing about his reason for returning to England, - to see if Harry Potter might be a threat, - and to kill him if he was.

He was still sitting when Poppy's door was flung open, and a stunner hit him square in the chest. Unexpectedly, Poppy retaliated by stunning the attacker, and then revived Snape. Snape pulled himself to his feet, and looked at the man lying face down. He glanced at Poppy, said briefly, "Well done," then pulled the intruder over to see his face. Theodore Nott. The Notts worked closely with the Bowens, and probably Theodore had acted on the orders of the Bowens. He wouldn't have had the courage to act on his own. He glanced at the door, but instead of using it, circled to a side window, and carefully checked that there were no other wizards lying in wait. Only once satisfied did he return to question Nott. Veriterasum was so convenient to have on hand.

Theodore Nott was able to tell him a great deal that he hadn't known, including that the orders were to kill Snape on sight.

Snape asked, "Harry Potter?"

"To be taken prisoner if possible, killed if that cannot be done. It's what the Aurors are to do as well, by order of the Ministry. They're to take him in for questioning, and to kill him rather than allow him to go free."

"His 'Protected' Status?"

"No-one is protecting the Muggle!"

Snape asked Poppy, "What will we do with this filth?"

"Leave him here. It's time I moved to a safe place, and it's time you went home to safety. I should have warned you that I'm subject to harassment, only because I knew Harry."

Snape aimed a wand, and bonds tightened on their prisoner. It was definitely time he left Britain, and while he hadn't thought about it before, if Draco was right, it was time he left the wizarding world. He waited until Poppy was safely packed and gone, and then slipped out himself, counting himself lucky that there had been no more attacks. Poppy had been under surveillance. Nott had known that he was there.

When he arrived home, he set to work to liquidate his investments. He'd told Trieneke, but no-one else. He hadn't killed Harry Potter, and Night was coming for Anirage. If he was The Protector, he'd made his decision. He sent a message to Wallace Pettit, that he had firm information that Harry was now living in New York.

The week before the family were to slip quietly out of the country, Iseria and Jimmy knocked on their door. Iseria had a vague smile on her face, and Jimmy looked embarrassed at his wife, "She says you're leaving and we're to ask if we can come too. Just our two families, not to tell anyone, and go to the South Island of New Zealand. She says we'll be safe there," and Iseria added with her charmingly vague smile, "There are mountains and mist and gorges, but no dragons and no giants. It is a good place. It is a good place for our daughters to grow."

A month later, the two families were settled in New Zealand. Here there was a freer air, no-one watching, and a relaxed atmosphere. Before long, both wives announced they were pregnant. In due course, the Aniragi population of New Zealand would be increased from seven to nine, just the two families living not far from Dunedin.

***chapter end***


	30. Chapter 30

_Reminder of characters__: __Kreighley boys__: Aaron Bates, once a Kreighley boy, now Kevin's helper. Kevin also has Chris, a male nurse. Larry and Warren are Kevin's brothers. Larry has just completed his first year at university. _

_Acknowledgements__: The 'Midnight Sun' prophecy is by Herald_Mage Anduli, author of 'Midnight Sun." * Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 30**_

Horace Slughorn, Headmaster of Hogwarts inspected 'The Counting Book' with a heavy heart. It was an ancient magical artefact that was supposed to show every eleven-year-old child in Britonaum eligible to become a Hogwarts student for the new school year. He knew that some were missed, but the names of nearly every one of them, Pure-blood, Half-blood or Muggle-born, would appear in this book. The Muggle-born students were shown in red as their parents needed to be contacted. A bare letter would not suffice for those who didn't know of magic.

It was at this time the previous year that Ministry officials had visited to check the Counting Book, and soon after, the two names of potential students marked in red had vanished. And now there were three new names marked in red. Would those names too disappear once the Ministry saw them? He didn't like to think that innocent children had been murdered, but there was no denying that the orphanage for Muggle-born children was no longer used, and he was sure that only a very few young children had ever been adopted.

Uncertainly he circled the room, every now and then looking back at the opened pages of the book with the three names in red, two girls and one boy. So much had changed. He didn't like it.

Horace Slughorn was not a man of action. The best thing to do was to destroy the centuries old Counting Book. He knew that. It took him hours of fretting before he suddenly wheeled and pointed his wand, _"Incendio." _And then he had to take quick action to prevent the fire from spreading. He'd forgotten to limit the spell. But the book kept burning, methodically, one page after another, turning each of its own volition. He watched in fascination. It was as if Magic itself wanted the Counting Book gone.

It was a strange idea, but there were other things. Magical plants were not thriving any more, and the Care of Magical Creatures teacher had advised him that the Centaurs had gone, he wasn't sure for how long. Hagrid had gone. Half-breeds were no longer welcome in civilised society, but there had been no other so familiar with the Forbidden Forest. Giants were rumoured to be extinct, no Goblins or nature sprites had been seen for years. There were supposed to be mer-people in the lake, but Slughorn had never seen one.

Oddest of all, the dragon reserves were empty, the dragons having apparently broken free in the night, and then vanished from sight. There had been three dragon reserves, all of them now empty. Dragons were too big to be long hidden, but maybe, like the house-elves, they knew of a different realm in which they could live free.

When the Ministry contacted the Hogwarts headmaster to make a time to view the Counting Book, he said that it was missing, probably the Resistance.

Alastor Gumboil was relieved when he heard. It may have been his duty, it may have been for the Greater Good, but he didn't like killing children, though he didn't so much mind killing the parents. It was probably better than turning them into vegetables. The most skilled wizards of the Department of Mysteries were fully occupied trying to defend the Aniragias from the Muggles. It was thought that information from Muggle authorities in America was behind the latest attempts to explore the area around Hogsmeade, though they seem to have been convinced that there was nothing in London.

_hphphphp_

Cecilia Edgecombe almost skipped in her excitement. She was to get a wand, and soon she'd be going to Hogwarts and learning to do magic the same as her Mum and Dad could do.

She was accompanied by her father. Her stepmother, Angelina, had seen her best friend's daughter's new wand, and was furious and disgusted. It was so different from when old Mr. Ollivander had measured her up for her wand, _'The wand chooses its master, Miss Spinnett_,' he'd said in that eery voice. She remembered it so well. But she wouldn't spoil the girl's excitement, and so had left this job for her husband. She had two small daughters of her own, but so far Terrell had refused to consider leaving Britain.

Cecilia was a little surprised at the assortment of pretty wands laid out on a bench for her to choose, but picked one up, and said, "This one's nice." The salesman said simply, "Nine galleons, and you have the box for free."

"Father?"

"Try a few more. You should get a feeling with the right one."

"What sort of feeling, Father?"

"You'll know it when you feel it."

After a time, Cecilia said doubtfully, "I like this one."

The salesman raised his eyes at Edgecombe, who nodded in a resigned sort of fashion, "Wrap it up."

Cecilia didn't yet know that she was missing anything, though she did know that her male cousin was to go to the Nadlan to choose a wand. She asked brightly, "Can I choose a pet now, Father?"

_hphphphp_

It was Harry Potter's twenty-fourth birthday, a fact that he'd quite forgotten. He was in a bus, escorting four new boys to Kreighley. The driver was Aaron Bates. Aaron's primary job was to look after Kevin, but Kevin had Chris now, a male nurse, fulltime at Kreighley. Ross had been giving Aaron different jobs. One day, maybe quite soon, Kevin would no longer need him, and the more things he could do the better.

So far the boys had said little to the ones they didn't know, except that the Swan brothers exchanged wisecracks with each other, but now they rudely studied the boy they'd just picked up from a home in Outer London. Up high on his neck, over his head, and covering a portion of his face was a strange-looking, close-fitting garment. He had a middle-aged Labrador that huddled close to his feet. The older boy demanded, "What happened to you?"

John Wentworth said briefly, "House burned down. The suit's to make it so the burns don't scar too bad."

"Does it cover you all over?"

"It's a lot lighter down my right side. It's my left side that's worse."

The other brother cut in, "How come you're allowed a dog?"

"He's mine. They looked after him at the vet's because he was hurt too. Mr. Davies said I could keep him."

The brothers transferred their attention to Lee, "Could we have a dog?"

"You'd have to ask the boss. That's Mr. Davies. And if you had one, you'd have to look after it, exercise it, clean up after it, and all that."

"What about a horse? Could we have a horse?"

"I doubt it?"

The fourth boy said shyly, "I had a cat, but they took it away."

"Your name's William, isn't it?"

"No. My name's Blue. It's after my Dad who died in the war."

"_What_ war? There's no war."

"They called it a peace-keeping mission, and he was killed. Mum said he was a hero, they even gave him a medal but it was lost in the fire. Renard Swallow, Victoria Cross. That was my Dad, and everyone called him Blue, so I'm being called Blue as well."

"Just because you say?"

The small boy said flatly, "Yes."

Tighe grinned and nodded, "OK Blue. Your Dad's a hero and you're named after him. So what about your Mum?"

"She died in an accident, and I lived with just my stepfather. He's gone now, so I had no home. But Lee came to see me last week and he says that Kreighley's nice."

John said, "There's a beach isn't there, Lee? But my doctor says I'm not allowed in the sun even with the suit on."

"For a year or two, Ross said. But afterwards, you'll be able to. And there's quite a nice little shelter at the top of the cliffs. There's a boy called Kevin who can't walk. He likes to sit there and watch the waves."

"My aunt says that one day she might be able to take me and Abby, just that right now her flat's too small."

"Abby's the dog?" asked Tighe. "Does she bite? Can we pat her?"

"Mum always said she was too fat and lazy to bite anyone," and for a moment, he looked out the window. The loss of all his family was too recent to speak of them unmoved.

Blue was also staring out the window. The middle of Summer, and hot and dry. He'd be able to walk along the beach, maybe swim. He was looking forward to it, and John looked nice. He wasn't at all sure about the Swan brothers, who seemed to swear an awful lot. He'd never been allowed to swear. He'd been looked after very carefully, not allowed to get himself sunburnt, not allowed to socialise outside of school, not allowed to risk accidents. He'd thought it was because Uncle Bill cared about him, but then a lady had explained to him that he'd tried to sell him. He didn't know why. He'd been told often that he was a nice boy, a sweet boy, a pretty boy, but he was only small, and wouldn't be able to do much work.

Blue was not unintelligent, he knew about sex, but thought it was only for a man and a woman together. It had not occurred to him that he could be a target for a man's lust, and no-one had told him. There were still pictures of him circulating on the internet.

_hphphphp_

Fred Weasley smiled with satisfaction as he put a large amount of money in the safe. He'd just sold identical twin girls of fourteen for a very large amount of money. The twins' policy of choosing only the best was paying off. They chose them themselves, searching the Muggle world for those special ones, the exceptional ones, who would wait in their cages until it was time to bind them to their new owner. Their stock was getting a little low, and George was out following up a report he'd seen in a Muggle newspaper.

The twins had a monopoly on the slave spells, all but the most basic. Whenever requested, and at a price of course, they did the ones for Barnabus Cuffe as well. Not all of his merchandise were under the influence of the spells, - it was not essential after all, and didn't cost nearly as much. It suited the Weasley twins to allow Cuffe to service the lower end of the market. Their current project was to develop a much wider range of spells that could be used on Muggles. One of them was a spell they called the Stopper. It worked the same as a stun spell, but only on Muggles. It would scarcely touch a wizard. They also had a range of medications for Muggles, as most potions were poison to them. They were so delicate compared to wizards.

Another customer entered the door, and Fred quickly went to him, bowing slightly, "Mr. Hopkirk." Fred had only been introduced to him once, but they made a point of remembering names. It was not very difficult. Most of their customers came from the wealthy Pure-blood families, and these were the names they'd known all their lives. The twins were friendly, popular, and excellent salesmen.

Hopkirk greeted him courteously, inspected the merchandise, and said, "I hear you give discounts if there's an old one to trade back to you."

"Certainly. We'll talk back in the office, will we?" Fred didn't like having the slaves listening to discussion of sales. He always told them how special they were, for a special destiny as beloved companions. There were three slaves in the cages, each of them taken over a week ago, each of them influenced by Ricca Potion to make them more docile, and each of them knowing that the collar they wore could be used to deliver pain, although only one had yet been punished. All girls, a delicate blonde 'English flower,' an Asian beauty, and one quite tall and very black. She was from Somalia, exotically beautiful.

In the office, Fred prompted, "The one you have to trade?"

"She's called Candy. I've had her for many years, but she's past her prime, and I want a new young one."

"How far past her prime?"

"In her late twenties."

Fred nodded, a woman that old was not saleable. He said in a kind voice, "It is sometimes difficult for an owner to put down a pet they've had a long time. But we ensure they are never hurt or even frightened. It is our way of caring for them. For a woman we cannot sell, like yours, we still give 10% discount."

"It's law, isn't it?"

Fred nodded gravely, "A Muggle slave must be painlessly put down when it's time. There is no other way."

"I really wanted a boy for next time, but you don't seem to have any. And Cuffe's are not as good."

"We don't like to keep more than a half-dozen here at a time, but we do cater for particular needs. Do you have any special requirements for your boy?"

Hopkirk's voice turned a little dreamy, "I want him blonde. As blonde as an angel. Young, maybe about eleven. I want him to love me, to want only to serve me."

Fred waited patiently while the imaginary boy was described. Once Hopkirk had finally run down, he asked, "Do you prefer him entire or castrated. He will stay looking young for longer if he's castrated, on the other hand, he will never enjoy it himself. Many owners prefer that their slaves enjoy it as well."

"I don't know. Maybe leave him for the time being. I can have him done later if I want."

"Of course, but don't try and do it yourself. Spells can kill a Muggle."

Fred was quite pleased about the prospective sale. The description exactly fitted the boy that George was after, and the trade-in was a bonus. Taking slaves was allowed as a legitimate business, but by law, no other Muggles were to be molested. 'Candy' would be used to test the spell they were currently working on, one to heal deep cuts. They'd already killed three unwanted slaves with this particular project. It had not been a kind and painless death, but no-one ever checked, just as long as slaves did not escape.

_hphphphp_

Hermione walked the streets of the Aniragia adjoining Durmstrang. Her wand was in her sleeve, and whenever she was sure she was unobserved, she slipped it out just far enough, and silently sterilised someone. When she saw a wizard she knew to be powerful, there was a more severe spell. That one would hurt, but would not manifest for a few weeks. She was always very careful.

The weather was pleasant, and many families were out shopping for school supplies. The coming year would be her third year as school nurse. The population of the Nadlan was estimated to be around 4,500 and Hermione thought she might have got to most of those, one way or another. She didn't see any babies, and she hadn't seen any notices of new births in the newspaper for months.

There were hardly any births in Britonaum either, and the Convocation of Vanie was in noisy dispute about a potential solution. Finally, a course of action was decided on. They would pass the word to the Minister to start preparing. It would be best if they had an excuse, - a valid-sounding pretext for the invasion, but that was only a matter of time. The Southern Alliance had not only stolen their young women but Dasse Portat had openly criticised the Changes.

_hphphp_

Ginny knew now that her baby was to be a girl, - a girl who'd be given a play-wand instead of a real one, would be taught house-keeping skills at Hogwarts and little else, and would have no vote. By the time she grew up, she might not even have legal rights to her own property. When Trevor next spoke about leaving, she said, "Three days. I need three days to complete a small job, and then we will leave."

"Total secrecy, and we go somewhere no-one will know us."

Ginny nodded, "Live Muggle. Maybe we can come back one day."

"This place has been in our family for over a thousand years. We will close it up, use the preservation spells, and leave. Tell _nobody!"_

"Nobody. I agree," and she caressed her tummy. She had to look after her daughter, and Britonaum was no place for a female.

_hphphp_

Wallace Pettit looked over the lengthy prophecy he had on his desk. This one was not a recent prophecy, but had been sent to him by Frionne Malfoy, who said that she'd found it while going through old books. The reason that it had caught his interest was that so much could be applied to Harry Potter, powerful wizard, and with a reason for revenge. He doubted he was in New York. It was just that The Protector had decided to protect the boy rather than his world, and maybe that was a good thing. Acting on a prophecy could so easily backfire. This one for instance. If Snape had tried to kill the boy and failed, then destruction of their world would come any day. He read over the words again,

'_I am the one you have all shunned,_

_The child lost in the dark._

_I am the one named for he who died at his own hand._

_The soul abandoned yet unbroken._

_I am the one whom you would call Saviour,_

_Discarded for the traitor._

_I am the fallen star,_

_Catch me if you can._

_Upon my direction lies the fate of us all,_

_I am the Midnight Sun,_

_Should I choose to break you,_

_All shall be forever lost._

_Should I choose to save you,_

_I shall be broken instead._

_Upon my shoulders rests the fate of the world,_

_Treat me as you wish to be treated.'_

Wallace Pettit placed the ancient parchment back on his desk. _'Treat me as you wish to be treated.'_ Harry Potter had been betrayed, punished, and shunned. Their world hung on a knife edge, the essential secrecy teetering in the balance. _'Upon my shoulders rests the fate of the world.' _ If Harry Potter was the 'Midnight Sun,' then they were quite certainly doomed. It was time to leave, but he wanted to take Barbara, Sue and especially Gloria. The Holocaust was coming, and the three women could so easily become casualties. He didn't care about any others, especially not his family. The Pettits had been chief among those destroying their world.

_hphphphp_

George returned to the 'Petshop' after three days away, tired, but with two slaves in custody. He didn't have William Swallow, but had seen a photograph of the boy, large, clear and in colour. An innocent face shining with beauty, 'as blonde as an angel' just like Hopkirk wanted. But young Jimmy was also blonde, and maybe the Swallow boy should be offered to someone with more influence. He really was something special. And besides, he hadn't yet been able to find where he was, - just that he was in some sort of Children's Home.

Fred greeted him, inspected the boy and girl, and settled them in their cells with the usual explanation that they might be prisoners for the moment, but only because they were so special, destined to be loved as ordinary children were never loved. He was kind and reassuring, and neither of the new slaves tried to fight or run. They were already collared, though in normal clothing. They were presented with an appetising meal, as were the two girls in the other cell.

The red-headed child, a girl of fourteen, didn't touch the meal, but waited until the twins had left the room before turning to quizzing the other girls. Each wore only the slave garment. Regular clients knew it meant they were ready for sale. If a slave still wore Muggle clothing, it meant they'd have to wait. The blonde boy sat on the floor, as close to Vivvy as he could get. He was only eleven, and terrified.

After a while, Vivvy sat back on the small bunk bed, disgusted. It seemed that the girls had no thought of trying to escape. She understood that the collar could be used to punish, had experienced it, but neither of those ones had even risked it. They just seemed content to be sold, content to be merchandise. Each cell had a small toilet and bathroom attached, thankfully out of sight of anyone watching from behind the bars. She retreated there for a bit, and her furious tears were not seen.

When she felt calmer, she noticed the meal, oddly still hot and waiting for her. The black girl said, "It's a magic plate. It keeps it hot and fresh," and the blonde one said, "Eat. You'll feel better after a meal."

Vivvy sat down to her potion-laced meal, and felt better afterwards.

_hphphphp_

Ginny kissed her husband and said sweetly, "We can go now."

"What did you do?"

Ginny hesitated and Trevor said, "It's all right. Not only that I would never betray you, but that I happen to agree with you."

"There are no more Muggle-borns living as wizards in Britain. We've rescued the last ones."

"Rescued?"

"They were being systematically exterminated. I told you that. Even innocent children."

"The hit-wizards?"

"Alastor Gumboil is dead. A team arrived just in time to save the lives of Vivienne Lewis and her Muggle husband. He had orders to kill any children as well, but there were none."

"You must have good information."

"We do. But it's not for me any more. It's time for me to run."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tonight would be better, just in case."

Two days later, Wallace Pettit, with Gloria, Sue and Barbara also slipped out of Britain. Sue's ex-husband had warned her that they were under suspicion. They travelled Muggle, and settled in Canada.

_hphphp_

The Sudlan Aurors tried to further increase security. More Aurors were trained, even when they had to accept lowered standards of academic achievement. A new type of 'soldier' was recruited, almost anyone who was prepared to fight. For the refugees from Britain, it was a worry. They might have run to gain freedom, but they didn't want to fight family. Dasse Portat made a decree, that no-one be forced to fight, and that any mother of children, and any young women below the age of thirty, were not permitted to fight. They were too precious.

Warnings had been proliferating, - not mere prophecies, but solid information coming out of Britain. There hadn't been a war between wizards for centuries, but one was coming.

Narcissa and Mary Black were worried, but their role in the Resistance was indispensible. Their boys were five now, lively and intelligent, very close. James had an unfortunate tendency to set things on fire when he lost his temper, but he seemed to be growing out of it. Then a letter came from Draco, suggesting that they should go on holiday overseas for a few months, maybe to America. If they didn't want to do that, maybe his godsons might like to visit him in England, especially as his own stepsons were just the same age.

The mothers were reluctant to part with the boys, but refused to abandon what they felt as their duty. They would be safe with Van Malfoy. A few days later, Regulus and James Black arrived at Malfoy Manor. They were in the charge of an elderly nanny, not their normal nanny who'd refused to return to Britain.

Within a half hour or arrival, James accidentally set fire to a table decoration, but luckily most of the furnishings had fire-retardent charms. Venetia's children, Albus and Antonius Bulstrode, were very impressed. They were the same age. Within a day, the four were firm friends. On the third day, Regulus and Antonius had a fight, but on the fourth day, they were taken on an excursion. They forgot to miss their mothers.

Meantime, in nearly every house in Britonaum and in the Nadlan, and in quite a few homes in the Sudlan, Hermione's products were patted on faces, taken as potions, and smoothed onto bearded faces. Children played with the boxes. They were oddly attractive. Fewer and fewer children were born.

***chapter end***


	31. Chapter 31

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Kreighley: The manager is Ross Davies, his new assistant is Adam. Aaron Bates is Kevin's helper and Chris is Kevin's nurse. Kevin's brothers are Warren and Larry. __The Senior boys__: Paul, former 'Cupboard Kid,' Travis and Telly. __Recent arrivals:__ John, who'd lost his family in a house fire, and Blue, (William Swallow) whose stepfather had tried to sell him for sex. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. Kreighley Beach Boys' Home is entirely mine._

_**Warnin**__**g: Some of the content of this story might be upsetting to younger readers.**_

_**Chapter 31**_

Kevin Bates shut his eyes. It seemed that he was always tired these days, like even his eyelids didn't have the strength to stay open. On his chair was fitted a computer screen. It was not difficult for him to make simple requests, but the voice synthesiser was not nearly as useful as he'd wanted. He could only communicate easily with Lee, and Lee wasn't coming today. He would die soon. He wasn't quite sure why he'd waited so long. He guessed he was accustomed to the humiliation of needing total care, and it was still nice to sit in the sunshine, and he liked to watch the other boys. There was pain, but only like a constant dull ache. It was seldom severe, just wearing. He was to see Dr. Tan in the afternoon. He came every Thursday afternoon now, and sometimes Ross would have him check the other boys, like Tom who'd nearly drowned, and still had a cough from inhaling salt water.

Aaron checked on his charge frequently, and Kevin's older brother, Larry, stayed close, though Warren was at the beach with a tribe of other boys. Chris, the nurse, had the morning off, but would be back before the doctor's visit. In the meantime, there were both brothers, Aaron, Ross, and Ross's assistant, Adam, to look after him if needed. All except for Adam were accustomed to helping. Adam had only been there a week, though he said that it was a return, that he'd worked at Kreighley earlier in his career.

Aaron was the main carer after the nurse. He was competent to help move him, competent to deliver an injection for pain if required, and knew how to prepare the liquid nourishment which was delivered direct into his stomach. Kevin insisted that he be in his own room when he was fed. He didn't like others seeing.

Young Dallas came closer when he saw that Kevin was asleep, but retreated when he woke. He was fascinated by the skinny young man with the mechanical voice, but also a little frightened. It was like God had made an awful punishment, just like his Dad told him could happen. He wished he knew what Kevin had done to deserve being like that.

Dr. Tan gave Kevin a much more thorough check than he was accustomed to that afternoon. He had him lying in the bed, checked curvature of the spine, commended his carers on the condition of his buttocks and back, - no pressure sores, and then told him to get dressed and he'd come back. He had to discuss future care.

Kevin didn't think there was much future care to discuss. Maybe as soon as the warm weather was over. Lee would do it for him, and Aaron if he couldn't. He didn't think he should ask Chris, but there was no reason it would arise. Lee would do it, and it would be painless, just a sleep from which he would not wake.

When Dr. Tan returned, it was with Ross and Adam.

"Right," the doctor said. "Injection practice. There is no reason that Kevin should be in pain, so that's why all of us should know how to give an injection, and into a vein so as to give instant relief."

Adam said, wrinkling his brow, "Are you in that much pain, Kevin?"

Kevin didn't have to answer, as the doctor said firmly, "There are times now when he's in quite severe pain, and it could get worse without much warning. And whenever, _ whatever_, it is _totally_ Kevin's decision how much of the drug to have. It is not for anyone else to say that he cannot have as much as he needs to stop the pain." He almost glared at those who listened, and said again, "Only Kevin. If he wants a strong painkiller, he gets it. If he wants an extra dose, or two or three, he gets it. It's to relieve pain. He is not to suffer pain."

Adam asked, "But what if we give him an overdose?"

"I will explain to Kevin exactly how much is an overdose, and exactly what the effects are if he is delivered an overdose."

Ross said, "We've already talked about it, haven't we Kevin? If he accidentally takes an overdose, there are to be no attempts made to resuscitate him."

"Kevin?"

Kevin slowly moved a hand, and the metallic voice came, "Yes."

Adam said slowly, "Yes, you want the say in painkillers? Yes, you do not want resuscitation if there is an overdose."

"Yes."

Adam looked at the doctor who took no notice of his obvious reservations, and produced a fake arm complete with veins

Only when they were all competent, did the doctor gently lift the painfully thin, almost helpless arm, point out the veins that could be used, and demonstrate the techniques to bring them into greater prominence. There were no injections, only that once he'd done that, he dismissed the others to talk to Kevin privately.

First he named the drug, and said that a symbol would be added to his repertoire of words to say that he wanted the drug. "Two injections within a short time will render you comatose, three or four will depress your breathing until you die in your sleep. Do you understand, Kevin?"

Kevin was profoundly grateful, and while the expressionless mechanical voice stated the bare 'Yes,' his eyes teared. He had Lee, but as it turned out, he hadn't needed the wizard. The doctor knew, and the doctor was prepared to help him die.

Dr. Tan said, "The drug is to stop severe pain. When your spine is badly twisted, as it is, it is likely to give you severe pain. If you die after an injection, no-one will be in trouble because the purpose of the drug is to stop the pain, nothing else."

Kevin closed his eyes, and then felt a gentle cloth wiping up tears, "It's all right. It is your choice, no-one else's. You enjoy the sunshine while you can, and when you've had enough, it is your choice."

Kevin slowly moved his hand to the extreme right of his keyboard, "Thank you."

_hphphp_

Fred raised his eyebrows at George when he entered the shop, and George shook his head. He was in a Muggle suit, his hair was short, and he sported a neatly trimmed moustache. He went regularly into Muggle areas, while Fred mostly looked after the shop with his two assistants. There were the animal pets to look after as well as the human pets.

Fred complained, "It's been three weeks. You still haven't found him?"

"They've closed the records, it seems. My sources haven't been able to find him so far."

"It wouldn't be a problem if only I hadn't shown the picture to Zabini. He refuses to settle for any of the others."

"Three blonde eleven-year-old boys we can't sell."

"We can probably sell one. Maybe obliviate two and drop them off somewhere? And pick up two more girls. Most prefer girls."

"Anything particular?"

"Another redhead if you can find one pretty enough."

"Tomorrow then. I know just the one." George always had youngsters marked in his mind for possible use. Leaving them with their parents until wanted meant that the cages were never too crowded, and someone else kept them fed and sheltered. The only drawback was that sometimes they were no longer virgins when wanted. He never chose urchins from the street, but looked for gently reared girls and boys, less likely to displease a client with coarse accent or language, and more likely to be docile. When there was an order for a particular type, it was usually just a simple matter of picking one up.

"So what about the Swallow boy?"

"I'll keep looking. We'll charge extra though, considering the trouble I've gone to."

"Zabini won't care. His family is as rich as anyone's."

_hphphphp_

Harry sat with Kevin in the weak sunshine. It was not hot, and Kevin was covered with his favourite blanket. There was a charm on the blanket. It automatically warmed whenever in contact with the sick boy, though not by enough to be noticeable to others. It was snug at the moment, as Harry was there to make it as warm as was wanted.

The sound of a fight rose from the beach below them, and Harry asked, "Telly?"

_Probably. He thinks he should be leader because he's senior, and neither Paul nor Travis are fighters._

"So who's he fighting?"

_Staffy, I suppose. He doesn't start fights any more, but he can certainly finish one._

"Does Warren fight?"

_Not if he can help it."_

"So there's no recognised leader?"

_I was for a while in a funny sort of way. But not since I stopped having my own voice. Most of the younger ones just ignore me._

"I was surprised that Dr. Tan was willing to help you."

_ I'd rather you if you don't mind. I don't want anyone else feeling guilty._

"I don't mind. Joe Tan is a good bloke, doing that. It makes me wonder how common it is, doctors getting around stupid laws like that."

_I sometimes don't know what I'm waiting for. I'm not of any real use to anyone any more._

"You asked me to talk to Blue. That was of use."

Harry felt Kevin's amusement along with the words, _Were you embarrassed?_

"Acutely, especially when he asked did it hurt."

_ Did you tell him?_

"I admitted it happened to me once, but that I scarcely remembered. Only that I was sore for days."

_Mike told me that he always hated it, it hurt like hell, and he was mostly bleeding after. It was only for a few months, and then he ran away. _

"I don't think he's ever told anyone else about that, though we suspected because he always took such care to be dirty. He used to look a lot like Blue in the odd times he was clean."

_He told me about that too. He said it helped a lot. Men don't look at grubby, snotty boys._

There was an interruption then, as a group of four paused in their headlong rush to the beach to greet them. A few quick words, and they were gone. The Swan brothers and Jack and Tom, the 'blackbirds.'

Kevin remarked, _Tighe and Sean made friends with that pair within a day of arrival. And then they started teasing Blue_. _Somehow they found out how much the bidding had got to._

"I found his picture on an internet site. I found mine as well, though an old one. It's too big a world online. They can't police it. And Blue. He had to know. He says he's going to ask the older boys to teach him to fight, just in case."

_ He's fast friends with John. John still mopes for his family, but Blue seems to like it here._

"Ross says that John has an aunt, but she'll only take him if he agrees to leave the dog."

_ He loves the dog. He won't want to leave him. _

"Dallas still clinging to Travis?"

_Not as much now._

_hphphphp_

Five new boys, and Telly and Staffy decided it was time to have whistle practice. This was a system of whistles devised long ago to ensure that a Kreighley boy was not threatened when he was caught alone. Kreighley boys stuck together.

Ross pricked up his ears when he heard the whistles start, but understood the initial code, 'Practice.' There were many other meanings to the whistles, which varied in pattern and length. He knew the basics, but had forgotten most of the variations, some of which were to do specifically with the Kreighley grounds, and some with school, such as 'Far sports ground.' He gave Adam a call and they both strolled down to watch.

There were varying results, - the Swan brothers caught on immediately, John couldn't do it at all, starting to cough when he tried, and Blue couldn't seem to get any volume. But Dallas surprised himself and everyone else by producing an ear-splitting whistle that had the instructors covering their ears even while they told him how great it was. Dallas glowed under the praise. He'd so seldom earned praise and resolved to concentrate very hard to learn all the variations, the one that indicated 'very urgent,' and the ones that indicated particular areas, such as the Visitors' Carpark or the beach. It was quite a sophisticated system, devised many years ago, now part of Kreighley culture.

Telly was very aware of the boss watching, and still dearly wanted to be recognised as the leader. Once everyone seemed to be running short of puff, he announced bossily, "Every day at this time. I want you all to be expert before school starts. Very good, all of you. John, you'll have to practise deep breathing exercises. Dallas, excellent work."

Staffy shot him a hostile look, but then gave an abrupt nod. It appeared as if for now, Telly might have become the boys' leader. Ross took note. It was part of his job to know the leader, know the various alliances, and to know who was in trouble. Telly would be all right. He'd come to him straight out of Juvenile Detention but that was two years ago now. He had a mother, but she'd claimed she couldn't handle him, and the boy had said that he'd just as soon go to a home in any case. He hadn't given any real trouble since his arrival. There had been someone die as a result of his stolen car and joy-ride. Maybe it had taught him a lesson.

Ross and Adam were talking about it afterward, and Adam said, "In my last job, they appointed a Head Boy and a half-dozen prefects. It was a very big place, of course."

"Did it work?"

"A bit, sometimes."

"I've been tempted to try it, but I just can't imagine the boys taking any notice of Travis, and certainly not Paul. Maybe Warren, but he'll be moving on quite soon I think."

Adam said with some accusation in his voice, "When Kevin kills himself you mean? It's a sin, a violation of a human soul."

Ross said, his voice suddenly hard, "If you as much as _hint_ at anything like that to Kevin, I'll throw you out without a reference."

Adam said defensively, "It's just how everyone else would regard it."

"Try living in a helpless shell of a body, and in constant pain. It is for _no-one_ else to say that he should continue to endure."

Adam gave a mock salute, trying to make little of the very serious rebuke, "Yes, Boss."

_***chapter end***_


	32. Chapter 32

_Notes for the convenience of readers:__ Kreighley: Staff: Ross, Adam, Ray and Lionel, grounds-keepers, Chris, Kevin's nurse, Aaron Bates, Kevin's helper. Kreighley boys: Telly, Warren Stern, Paul, (former 'Cupboard Kid,) Travis (Diabetic,) Tom and Jack, the 'blackbirds.' Recent arrivals, John, who'd lost his family in a house fire, and Blue, (William Swallow,) whose stepfather had tried to sell him for sex. Dallas, and Tighe and Sean Swan. _

_**Chapter 32**_

The grounds of Hogwarts stank. The lake water had become slimy, thick and green. The problem had developed over weeks, and nothing had been done. They knew why now, ever since a swollen rotting tentacle of the Giant Squid had surfaced. No-one could remember the lake without the Squid. It had been there as long as anyone could remember, though one ancient wizard said that he could remember when it was not quite as big. Now, every day, many times a day, the few teachers still in residence cursed the unknown wizard who'd first brought it to Hogwarts. It was a magical creature, and had lived there for hundreds of years.

Trimble and a few other teachers tried to remove the dead monster, but all that happened was that a few more tentacles came to the surface. According to Slughorn, things would improve without intervention. According to Trelawney, it was an indication of 'End Times.' When the Giant Squid died, Hogwarts would not be far behind.

With less than a week before the new school year, Professor Vector asked Slughorn, "Do you mind if Susan and I have a go? Otherwise you'll have to close the school."

Slughorn raised an eyebrow at the insolence. Females were not expected to try and tell wizards what to do, not these days. On the other hand, there were twenty-one new students due to start in just a week. Vector's Arithmancy skills might just contain a solution. He gave his assent.

There was a considerable improvement after the efforts of the two women, but it was not elaborate spells devised with the help of Arithmancy symbols, it was Professor Banning's household spells made large and more powerful. All the older women still had their own wands, matched to them at the age of eleven. It had not yet occurred to the men that their wands could be taken, and they were beginning to forget that witches had just as much inherent power as wizards. There were some indications they had more, - the average witch's apparation range was more than the average for wizards, and women's input was always required for the strongest wards.

Slughorn benignly thanked them for their efforts, and said, "I told you that the passage of time would bring its own solution. There was no need to worry."

The two women didn't object to this denial of their success when the men had failed. They were too valuable to the Women's Resistance to risk losing their jobs. Aside from Trelawney, they were the only female professors left. There was other female staff, - it was mostly women who now cooked and cleaned, taking the place of the house-elves, and Madam Pince was still there.

The water was still slimy, but became a little more clear over the next few days, and the stink lessened. The lake seemed almost empty of life, though mosquitoes and flies were there in their millions. No-one knew what had happened to the mer-people. It was decided that it was quite impractical for the first years to make the traditional crossing of the lake that year.

_hphphphp_

Lionel Pettit looked up as Molly Weasley was ushered in. He wore an amiable smile. If only she didn't have such a large following, he'd have her thrown into prison. Or killed. No interfering foreigners could rescue a dead person. Molly greeted him with apparent respect, "Minister Pettit. I am here to propose a solution to the troubles."

Pettit asked with an air of boredom, "Another petition?"

Molly leaned forward over his desk, so that he automatically sat back. Molly said, "Repeal all the repressive laws, both against women and against the Muggle-born, make it illegal again to have slaves, and I have a promise that seven hundred and fifty girls and women will voluntarily return to Britain."

Pettit had a surge of hope, "The young ones as well?"

"Most of the ones who have not married, yes."

"How many?"

"Sixty-five young women between the ages fourteen and thirty have agreed to return."

"I think... I think we can come to an arrangement."

"There are two other conditions, Minister Pettit. You must resign as Minister, and a new person is to be elected, the voting to be supervised by a panel of women. The Pettit Vote Counter is no longer to be used."

Pettit felt his sudden hope vanish. Those two last conditions were impossible, of course. He had no intention of resigning, and they needed the Vote Counter. But still, to avoid a war? How were they going to wage a war without Muggles noticing? It would be catastrophic. But the women wouldn't want a war either. Maybe they could negotiate some sort of a settlement. He said, "I will take advice. We will meet again."

Molly hurried back to the Longbottom place where several trusted members of the Women's Resistance waited. It was risky for some to be seen in public, and several were already condemned as 'traitors,' liable to be executed on sight.

"Well?"

"He was tempted, I could tell."

Tonks said cynically, "Stalled on the requirement to resign, I suppose."

Another said, "Even if he agrees, it's still taking a risk to allow the young ones to return."

Molly said, "Better than war. Bill says that they're preparing for war in the Sudlan. And Fleur is thinking of taking herself and the little ones right away, somewhere there's no wizards."

"Bill's going to fight though?"

"And Charlie, but they don't want to. It'll divide families, divide neighbours. I've approached Fred and George to help us a little more, but they're so busy with their shops."

"The Pet Shop?"

"They still have the Joke Shop as well."

Neville asked curiously, "Have you visited the Pet Shop, Molly?"

"Of course. Last time, they had the most dear little Miniature Snow Leopards. They wore collars just like a little dog might. If I wasn't so busy I'd ask for one."

As far as anyone knew, she had no idea that her sons dealt in Muggle slaves. It was not only that men never spoke of slaves where women might hear, but to most of the members of Women's Resistance, it had become a minor issue. It hadn't been Molly Weasley who'd wanted to include the clause about slaves into the proposed agreement, but Neville. Neville had been deeply offended that his friend had been threatened with such a fate, and had been disgusted when Ron Weasley had shown him his pretty red-headed slave. Molly was ideal for the position of spokeswoman, but she was blind to matters she chose not to see, and the thinking was done by others.

There had been a few attempts to invite 'Werner Pilzer' to join them in their struggle, but the only contact he'd made was the scant E-mail asking for regular newsletters. There had also been a donation, a large amount, but anonymous, so it might or might not have been from the mysterious German wizard. The donation had been in Muggle currency, but most wizard transactions were now in Muggle currency, ever since the closure of Gringotts.

Most of the members of the Resistance were more relieved than disappointed that he hadn't joined them. Powerful wizards made people nervous, and he had to have been very powerful indeed to have rescued the prisoners and destroyed the prison, - and apparently without any allies or a great deal of effort.

_hphphphp_

George stepped into the Pet Shop and announced to Fred, "Found him. He's at a Boys' Home though, so I could use your help this time. There's always too many people around at those sort of places." He mostly took a child in the night, using their new 'Stopper' spell followed by obliviation if anyone saw him. It was simple to erase a Muggle's memory of the last half hour or so. Wizards were far more difficult.

Fred asked, "Have you worked out a plan then?"

"It shouldn't be too hard," said George optimistically.

Taking Muggle slaves was allowed, but secrecy was viewed as more important than it had ever been. It had to be done discreetly. If there were any witnesses they had to be obliviated. There must be no Muggles hurt. If any Muggle was hurt, it had to look like an accident. And there was a general order issued to all wizards who had anything to do with Muggles, - that if they came across any witch or wizard hiding among Muggles, they should immediately notify the Ministry. The order included Squibs and Muggle-born children. Wizardkind had to protect itself, - no magic must be seen, and no-one whose loyalty was in doubt should be allowed the chance to increase the danger. They were so few, and Mugglekind so many.

_hphphphp_

Telly and three fifteen-year-olds were with Ross, map spread on the table, and pointing out a walking trail. Tom said eagerly, "It goes for hundreds of miles, but this segment is just nine miles and we can walk that easily. We walk to Traynor all the time."

Ross studied the map, but it was only to give himself time. He knew the path, a favourite with hikers, he'd done it himself more than once. It followed the coastline for miles, but went inland when the cliff tops or beaches were too difficult. There were safety exits so that tourists were less likely to be caught on an enclosed beach when the tide came in. There was a bit of climbing over cliffs, but it was not particularly dangerous, classed as of 'moderate' difficulty. An adult would have to go as well, preferably two, in case of twisted ankles or other mishaps. They could bus to the far point, and walk all the way back to Kreighley along beaches and cliff tops. It would be a good excursion, and it was a good time to do it, before school started for the new year.

He made his decision, "We'll go Friday, day after tomorrow. No-one under fourteen, and not without myself or Adam and one other adult."

"Lee?"

"I'll ask him."

"He's with Kevin. I saw them."

Tom asked, "How is he talking to him? Kevin takes forever to say anything much, but Lee seems to understand him."

Ross said briskly, "No idea." Lee seemed more mysterious to him than ever these days. He suspected there had to be some sort of telepathy going, but couldn't quite believe it. He came almost every day now. Kevin had a particular symbol on his computer screen that would send a signal direct to Lee's mobile phone. If he wanted to, he could call him any time of the day or night. All automatic, he could even send messages, though it was time-consuming if he wanted to use a word that he had to spell out.

Two days later, a tribe of boys hurtled down a cliff toward the beach. They were going too fast for safety, but no-one thought it worth bothering trying to restrain them. The tide was on its way out, and the sand was firm for walking on. Three adults, Ross and Harry, and also Chris, who carried first aid supplies in his backpack as well as his lunch.

Kevin was left behind with the young ones, but both Adam and Aaron were there for when he needed attention. There was also Travis, who declined heavy exercise because it made his blood-sugar levels unstable, and Paul, who simply didn't fancy the excursion. Larry and Warren Stern were away for the day. There should have been seven boys of eleven, twelve and thirteen, - except that Sean Swan and one of the thirteen-year-olds were busy trying to hitch-hike their way to Falmouth. They thought they should have an excursion as well.

Ross and Harry walked together, taking little notice of the boys who raced along a sandy beach. They'd soon be notified if there was trouble. None of these were apt to go off by themselves, each of them with mate or mates.

Chris walked at the water's edge with a few of the boys who liked to scan for useful flotsam washed up by the sea. There was often something, and many of the boys' rooms were decorated with odd things they'd found.

They slowed right down when they came across a beach that was covered with shells, Ross himself being distracted by the pretty things, and Harry reached down and picked up a larger than usual shell, but then threw it into the water when he saw it still contained its animal. He asked, "When should we have lunch do you think?"

"When we need a rest. It's a long way."

"I'm glad we didn't bring the younger ones. Short legs would have had trouble over that last bit."

An impromptu race sprang up, along the beach, up a steep path and down a ladder. Tom and Jack were both tall for their ages, and athletic. They always won the races, though Tighe Swan was not far behind. Chris bellowed, "Watch it, you fools. I don't have anything for broken legs!"

Tighe slowed down, becoming more cautious, but Tom laughed at him, and Jack made a rash leap onto the sand from far too high on the ladder. Ross shook his head, "Those two will be the death of me."

"You've survived worse."

"I thought it was progress that they asked permission rather than just taking off, but now I think they just saw the benefits of a packed lunch."

"I think I remember a beach soon that has a few caves including a nice big one with a dry sandy floor. That might be a good place for lunch."

"Luke and Hoks seem to have already started theirs."

_hphphphp_

Aaron carefully arranged the lambskin blanket that covered Kevin's chair, and said to Travis, "There must be no wrinkles, you see? Because after a while any wrinkle will hurt, and also could cause a bedsore."

Kevin was lying on the bed facing them, covered with the special blanket that Harry had given him. He'd been fed while still sitting in the chair, but then he'd messed himself and had needed to be cleaned. It was Travis's first time, and Kevin was very grateful that he hadn't shown the disgust he must feel. Travis was a good bloke, and strong. Strong was good. There was a lifting machine, but it was easier just to have two men lift him.

There was a very slight clumsiness when he was settled in his chair again, enough to wake the pain, more than the ache he was accustomed to. He couldn't even communicate with them until the keyboard and screen was arranged for him, his arm in a position where he could press one of the symbols when he needed something. He'd had enough. When Lee came back, he'd ask him to do it. He didn't know why he'd waited so long. He shouldn't have put Travis through this.

When he was arranged with his keyboard, he asked for the painkiller. Not the strong one that would leave him too sleepy, but the normal one he used frequently. It did not kill the pain, just made it bearable, - the background to his life.

Aaron asked, "We go to lunch with the others?" He was looking at Kevin's face, and Kevin blinked once. It was easier than pressing the symbol. He was usually in the dining hall at meal times. He didn't like being alone, and his carers had to eat.

Travis pushed the chair for him. It may have been self-propelled, but it required a sustained light pressure from the occupant to keep it going, touches on other buttons to steer it. Kevin hadn't made the effort for months. He'd ask Lee this afternoon, as soon as he came back, and he felt a relief at the thought of it. He wouldn't see his brothers again, not bother about any farewell visit from his aunt, just be gone where there was no pain and no disgusting messes for someone else to clean up. Warren could stay on here until he finished school, or maybe move to Falmouth and live with Larry. At twenty, Larry could perfectly easily act as guardian, and there was a sum of money left from their mother.

Aaron had seen the strained look of pain on Kevin's face, and was relieved that he hadn't been asked for the new painkiller, maybe several doses. He would have done it, just as asked. He understood and agreed that his friend should have that option, - just that he didn't want to be the one to end it.

They put him in his usual spot in the corner where he could see everyone. Kevin had his head resting in a shaped cushion so that it didn't sag to the side. His eyes were half-closed, though he could still see. He had to make an effort to keep his mouth closed. He didn't like it when it sagged open and then he'd dribble. His body was a wreck. He didn't look like he could be of any use to anyone. He didn't feel like he could be of any use to anyone. It was time to go, just as soon as Lee came back and could do it for him.

The bell rang, sounding the call to lunch. Young Dallas was already waiting. He'd known hunger, and was almost always first at the servery. John and Blue thought it was funny, neither of them having known what it was to be kept short of food. Then the two thirteen-year-olds, prompting Paul to ask where Pete and Sean were. One of the boys deigned to glance in his direction and shrug, the other ignored him. Paul was nineteen, still at school, and an object of derision because he shied away from conflict. A raised voice, and he would shrink away. They might fight other boys in defence of the wimp, but they would not respect him.

They might have answered Travis if he'd asked, but Travis wasn't worrying about a pair of missing boys, he was still thinking about Kevin, how he must feel when the others tucked into their meals while he would never eat normally again. He felt a little the same as he helped himself to his own careful meal. A diabetic could never eat just what he chose, and he'd already noted that there was an especially good dessert waiting. Perhaps Mary was compensating the younger boys for missing the treat of the excursion.

Ray and Lionel appeared, but Adam had not yet made an appearance. They joined Aaron at the staff table, and Ray said something about the dog that was not supposed to be in the dining hall. Aaron raised his voice, "John? The dog?"

John cast him a resentful look, but stood up, "Come on Abby. Outside."

Meantime Adam regarded the two visitors in his office, one in a business suit, the other in jeans, jacket and with long red hair tied back in a pony tail, as seemed to be the fashion among social workers. They were obviously twins, in spite of the different hairstyles and dress. They'd explained that William Swallow was to be taken to a different home, but it was so sudden... And it was the Swallow boy, whose picture could still be found on the internet.

Fred Weasley leaned forward, exerting his will, "It is orders. We'll go and find him now, will we?"

Adam tried, "I don't know... He'll have to pack. I've had no orders."

Fred had been hoping to do it without magic, but now slipped out his wand.

***chapter end***


	33. Chapter 33

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Kreighley: Staff: Ross, Adam, Ray and Lionel, grounds-keepers, Mary, the cook and Ray's wife. Chris, who is Kevin's nurse, Aaron Bates, once a Kreighley boy, now Kevin's helper. The senior boys: Warren Stern, Paul, (former 'Cupboard Kid,) Travis (diabetic) and Telly. Recent arrivals: John, who'd lost his family in a house fire, and Blue, (William Swallow,) whose stepfather had tried to sell him for sex. Dallas Singh, Tighe and Sean Swan. _

_Disclaime__r: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 33**_

In the large cave, Harry leaned against the wall, watching the boys chasing each other around rocks and through the shallows. Ross said, "We'll have to go on soon, or we'll be caught by the tide."

Harry answered lazily, "It only means the last bit will be by the cliff path."

Chris asked, "Have them clean up?"

Ross settled himself again, "In a bit then. They're enjoying themselves."

"The blackbirds can run!"

"The sports teacher had them in serious training last year, but they haven't bothered during the summer. I don't think they have the dedication to be elite sportsmen."

"Maybe not a bad thing. Some kids spend their childhoods chasing the dream, and never make it. It's a high cost."

There was no reason to hurry, and they stayed in the comfortable cave.

Meantime, George Weasley had Adam firmly under control with no need any more to hold his wand. Adam was smiling slightly, his eyes a little unfocused, but he could still walk, and answered the questions he was asked. This one wasn't a spell the Weasleys had developed for use on Muggles, but one like the _Obliviate _that had been used for hundreds of years. It was a 'soft' version of the _Imperius,_ suitable for use on Muggles.

Adam led them to the dining hall, where George quickly scanned over the five boys at the table, and said firmly, "William Swallow. You're to come with us."

Blue stared at the three men, two of them quite unfamiliar, one whom he only knew by sight. He didn't move. John leaned forward across the table as if to hide him. Travis queried Adam, "Mr. Connelly? Is that right? Where's he going?" and Ray asked doubtfully, "Are you sure, Adam?"

Adam answered the silent prompting in his head, "He has to go with these men," but his voice was dreamy, and Travis suddenly said, "No! It's not right. He's not going anywhere unless Mr. Davies says so."

Blue was trying to make himself smaller in his seat, not trusting the strange men, and Fred said impatiently, "Come on, boy. We're not going to hurt you."

George said under his breath, "Just grab him, Fred," and in a much louder voice, "We have papers and orders. The boy called William Swallow is to come with us." Fred started to walk towards where the five younger boys sat together.

Travis was staring at Adam, "Are you all right, Mr. Connelly? You look strange."

"William's to go with the men." Again his voice was unnatural, and he hadn't reacted at all to the increasing disquiet among the boys. Blue suddenly pushed aside his chair, dodged Fred, and darted towards the door in a bid for freedom. George took a couple of swift strides, and grabbed him hard by the arm, making him yell in pain.

The men turned to leave, George firmly holding the struggling boy. The adults, Ray, Aaron and Lionel hesitated, but Travis yelled, "It's a kidnap! Stop them!" and hurtled his solid frame at the men. Fred used his wand, and Travis fell to the floor. Aaron then, yelling in fury, and attacking George, trying to free Blue. The two thirteen-year-olds followed his example, but John called, "Get the other one, quick! Mr. Taylor, help us!" Ray Taylor was fat, unfit and well over sixty, but he managed to knock Fred over. George was on the floor, trying to free himself and hold onto Blue at the same time. He could no longer hold the spell over Adam, and Adam shook his head, trying to work out what was going on.

Mary, the cook, emerged from the kitchen at the shouts, and gave a cry of distress as she saw her husband fall. She didn't connect the fall with the aimed wand, but waded into the fray. Fred was concentrating, using the 'Stopper' spell on every person there. George had managed to get to his feet, but let go of Blue as he fought off one of the thirteen-year-olds. Young Dallas dived between his legs, tripping him, and made his escape from the large room. Outside, he hid behind a corner, and started whistling for help, again and again. The urgent sound didn't bring help, but spurred on the fighters, raising the sense of urgency. Blue was one of them. The bastards would _not_ take him. The dog, Abby, pricked up her ears and strolled to the dining room to see what was happening.

Lionel was on top of George now, pummelling with no science but a lot of enthusiasm. Blue was again cowering in a corner. He didn't want to be a 'fucktoy.' That was what Tighe said it was, a 'fucktoy.'

In the corner, ignored, Kevin was calling Lee's phone, again and again, _Urgent, urgent, urgent!_ He forgot to watch his mouth with the effort, and was beginning to dribble slightly.

John was no older than Blue, but he yelled, "Get them, Abby!" and threw himself at Fred. Fred shoved him away, striking the shoulder that bore the worst of the burn scars. John yelled in pain and reeled to the side. Abby barked ferociously and then attacked the one who'd hurt his boy, savaging his arm. George gathered himself, and acted with more method, aiming his wand and bringing down the dog first, and then making the 'Stopper' spell again and again.

All this time, Paul had been standing, staring, frightened to fight, frightened for Blue, frightened of the world, as he had been since his parents had chained him to a cupboard. The whistles rang in his mind, crying for help for one of their own. Those whistles had called help for him more than once. That had been at school. He was nineteen, the adults were down, Travis was down, even Mary was down. He gave a cry of incoherent rage, and ran at the twins. Fred aimed his wand, and again silently incanted the Stopper spell, the stunner that worked on Muggles without killing them.

Paul wasn't stopped, fighting them with a furious desperation. George tried, then a spell that dropped Adam, who'd finally tried to fight, another at Paul. He was sure he struck him, but again it was ignored, and he gave a cry of pain as Paul punched him hard on the nose then wrenched his wand out of his hand, and flung it to the side. The twins were unpractised at physical fighting, - Muggle fighting was disdained by wizards, but so was Paul unpractised. Paul was losing until little Dallas took a hand, pulling a leg so that Fred fell. Paul threw a kick at Fred, a satisfying thud into ribs, and turned again to George, getting in another hard blow on his face.

Fred aimed his wand, and said, _"Stupify," _and finally Paul was still. George was swearing, sure his nose was broken, and there was still another, clinging to him like a leach and kicking his ankle. Fred pushed his wand almost into Dallas's face, made the silent incantation, and the small boy went limp. He looked around, "What a mess!"

George made an incoherent sound, and Fred aimed at his nose and incanted, _ "Episkey." _George yelped as the bone repaired itself, and sat down heavily in one of the chairs, his face in his hands, His voice was a little muffled, "Did you kill that one? You used a stunner."

"He has to be a wizard. That's why the Stopper didn't work."

"We'll have to tell the Ministry," and George started looking for the wand that Paul had taken. Each Muggle had to be woken, obliviated and made to sleep again. They were taking far longer than they'd expected, and kept looking nervously over their shoulders. The whistles were silent now, but what if police were already on the way? There would be more mess to clean up. They hadn't expected so many adults, or near adults. There was the apparent wizard as well, and Fred pulled him to the side, studying him. He just looked like a Muggle, nothing special.

George said, "Wake one and get his name." He still felt awful, and wished he'd made a better plan. They could have just called the boy to the office, for instance, or come at night. He mostly picked up his targets in the night, without fuss, just that the parents would find the child missing in the morning, but there were so many boys here, and he hadn't known which room. And anyway, all but the younger boys were supposed to be away. It's why he'd chosen this day.

Fred revived Adam, asked him the name of the one they'd identified as wizard, obliviated him, and put him back to sleep.

"That all?" They looked around, their gaze passing straight over Kevin at first, unmoving in his chair, and with a shining line of saliva down his chin.

Fred's gaze returned, and he walked over to the wheelchair, touching his face. Kevin didn't focus his eyes, just staring into the distance. His hand now lay still on the keyboard. Wizards. They had to be wizards, like Lee was a wizard. He couldn't do anything, but he'd gathered they were making the others forget. Lee had told him about that, that if magic was seen, ordinary people were made to forget. Unseen, he'd managed to spell out the word 'wizards' and 'took Blue,' but now his hand lay still.

Fred shook his head, "How can they leave someone like this? It's cruel."

George tucked the inert form of Blue under his arm, and complained, "I've got aches on my aches."

"And I'm bleeding like a stuck Muggle," and Fred walked across to the fallen dog, and aimed his wand.

George said, "Leave her alone, Fred. She did nothing wrong."

Reluctantly, Fred lowered his wand. His arm hurt like hell.

They left Kevin, assuming him to be as mindless as he looked.

Ten minutes later, in three Apparation jumps, they arrived at the Petshop, George holding the limp form of Blue. Fred suggested, "Put him with Mardi?"

Mardi was eighteen, a 'trade-in.' They were using her to help settle new children taken. Once Candy was dead, she would become the subject of their experimentation with spells. Candy was very badly scarred and had developed a terror and hatred of the red-headed twins. She had her collar, but the slave spells had been geared to her former owner, and with her limited life expectancy, the twins hadn't bothered to change them.

George headed for the back room where they kept some healing potions, while Fred dismissed the helper for the day, and wrote a note for the Ministry. That there was a wizard at Kreighley Beach Boys' Home, that he was called Paul Knight, late teens, and possibly didn't know that he was a wizard. He called an owl for the job, and sent it off. Duty done, and he went to inspect the new merchandise.

At the beach, the waves were beginning to crash more loudly, clouds were looking more threatening, and the wind had picked up. It was time to go. Harry's phone didn't ring until he was several feet from the cliff. He checked it and tensed, message after message, Kevin, _urgent, urgent, urgent._ He spoke quickly to Ross, "I'm running ahead. Kevin wants me." He'd already taken off, but paused, "You should hurry. There could be something really wrong."

He didn't wait for Ross's reply, but ran, fast along the beach, around a headland, splashing in ankle-deep water, glanced around to see that no-one was close, and disapparated. Tom and Jack, hiding behind some rocks with the intention of jumping out on the others, stared at each other, open-mouthed. Jack said very quietly, "Voodoo magic."

"Nahh, we just lost sight of him." When the adults rounded the corner, they stayed unusually close. They didn't like things they couldn't explain.

In the dining hall, the bodies of boys, men, and a single woman still lay haphazard where they'd fallen. Kevin was exhausted, tears of frustration pouring down his cheeks as he tried to spell out a longer account of what had happened. And still, every minute or so, the repeated call, _Lee, urgent._ The tension, fatigue and frustration were making the pain worse, worse than it had ever been.

But then Lee was there, quickly checking the pulse of Dallas, who lay by the door, and then crossing to him, taking both thin hands, and asking, "What happened?"

_Wizards. They took Blue. There was a fight. They hurt John, but I think the rest are just asleep. They put a spell on them, and then made them forget. _

"They have Blue. Anyone else?"

_Sean and Pete weren't here, only Blue. And they said that Paul was a wizard. _

"They did? But what about Blue?"

_ Adam was with them, but it was like he was hypnotised._

Harry took a deep breath. "OK, so they took Blue. I want you to think very carefully of what they looked like, and show me. Not just a description, show me."

Travis stirred and looked around, bewildered. He'd been the first to go down to the spell, and now he was the first to revive. Harry took no notice, just gazing into Kevin's picture in his mind, and he breathed, "The Weasley twins. The bastards!"

He squeezed Kevin's hands quite gently, "You can rest now, I know where to find him. I will bring him back." He looked around, and said, "Travis, Kevin needs a painkiller." He glanced back at Kevin, and asked, "The strong one?" Kevin closed his eyes slowly, twice, which meant No. Harry asked, "The ordinary one then?"

_Double-dose. Pain's so bad. _

Travis asked, "What happened?"

"Someone took Blue away. Are you competent to give Kevin an injection? Double-dose normal medicine."

"That's what he wants?"

"Yes. I'm going to try and find him. Tend to Kevin before you do anything else."

"How can you find him?" But Harry was already disappearing out the door.

Travis stared after him, until the metallic voice of Kevin's machine called his attention, "Please."

***chapter end***


	34. Chapter 34

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Kreighley: Chris is Kevin's nurse, and Aaron Bates is also a carer. Paul was once the 'Cupboard Kid,' Recent arrivals, John, who'd lost his family in a house fire, and Blue. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 34**_

Harry disapparated the moment he was out of sight. He needed to put on his disguise. It would be very foolish to risk being seen by wizards without its protection. And he needed the apparation coordinates of the Weasley twins' home. Sarah found him as he scribbled down coordinates, and asked, "What's the problem?"

"The bastards took Blue. Looks like I'm not the only one they'd have as a slave."

"You told me it's illegal for them."

"It is." Harry noted the Petshop coordinates as well, just in case, and said, "We might copy these down on a piece of paper so I have them on hand."

"Good job we made the map then, isn't it?"

Harry quickly went and kissed her, "I know it was your idea. I wouldn't have bothered. You were right and I was wrong."

Sarah smiled sweetly at him, "As always?"

"Of course, and before she told him, added, "I'll be careful."

"_Very_ careful."

The robes first, and Sarah found the wand, while Harry carefully applied the mask, not hurrying, and then the wig. The twins knew him well, and were quick and clever with their wands. It would be foolish to be careless. He wanted to rescue Blue, not become prey himself. He asked, "If there's more than one needing rescue, where should I take them, do you think?"

"Not here, for sure. It would be too risky. That London institution? Where you had to wait hours for the Swan boys? Do you know that well enough?"

"That'll do. I even noted a quiet spot close I can apparate to." Wizards competent to apparate tended to do that, - it was not a good idea to turn up in the middle of groups of Muggles.

Harry was acting with calm, controlled precision, but there was a very deep anger burning within him. In his heart he was still a Kreighley boy, and the bastards had taken a member of his family.

He had the wand out and apparently ready when he appeared at the apparation point for the Weasleys' house. It was not that he had any intention of actually funnelling his magic through the wand, which could have unpredictable results, just that showing magic without using a wand was a poor idea.

But everything was quiet, no-one challenged him, and he started toward the house. There were wards much stronger than usual, and he paused as he suddenly felt as if he should not approach uninvited, - that he should make an appointment. He was amused at that one, Fred and George were as cunning as ever. A few more paces, and he could feel the more businesslike wards. He analysed them, and walked through leaving them untouched. A luxury home, though not enormous, extensive grounds, beautifully kept. Warily, he opened the door, and paused in some shock. An ornate entry foyer, but this was not what disturbed him. Looking back at him, life-size, was the 'Child of Light' poster.

He shook his head, and cautiously ventured deeper, cocking his head, listening for movement. He was surrounded by beautiful things screaming wealth. The twins had made themselves rich. Movement in the next room, and he paused, waiting. A girl entered the room, duster in hand, and stopped, staring at him. She had a slave collar and wore slave garb, the sheer pants, nothing to cover breasts. Harry said quietly, "Hello. I'm not here to hurt you. My name is Vonder." Vonder, not Werner, and certainly not Harry or Lee, but giving a name could make him seem more trustworthy.

"I'm Honey."

"Are there any other slaves here?"

Honey put up her chin, "We are not slaves. We are the beloved of our masters." She appeared to be about fourteen. Her hair was a honey-gold. Her slender body was flawless.

Harry tried again, "They love more than one then?"

"Spice and Sugar are in the kitchen, making dinner."

"Is there a new one at all?"

Honey said doubtfully, "We think there's one came in about a month ago, but she's in the workroom where we're not allowed to go."

Harry was looking into her mind. She hadn't thought of contacting her owners. Slaves were not expected to think for themselves, just to do what they were told, and give pleasure when required. These ones were also expected to be useful. He said, "Show me the way to the workroom please, Honey."

Without hesitation she led him down a corridor and pointed to a closed door. "Behind there, but no-one's allowed to go there."

"I know Fred and George. They want me to look."

Honey tipped her head to the side, frowned charmingly, and then nodded and gracefully subsided to the floor, "I'll wait here."

Four rooms, a Potions laboratory, a large office, a sitting room, and he went further and stopped. Huddled against the far wall of a cell was a naked women. Her long hair was bedraggled, her face blotched, there was a red streak of old blood on her chin, and she had deep, red scars crossing her body. She was a pitiful sight. Harry took control of his deep anger again, and asked, "What did they do to you?"

She slowly looked up. Her face was blank, and she didn't answer. Harry ordered, "Look at me," and quite gently, he delved into her mind. Her name was Candy. Her beloved master had given her to the red devils who tortured her and now she only wanted death.

Harry made a quick spell, and the cell door swung open. The girl didn't move, watching him, suspicious. Her collar fell off, and she caressed her own neck in wonder. For most of her life, she had worn that collar. With an abrupt movement, she stood and raced to the door. Harry stepped to the side, letting her go, but said, "I can take you away. You cannot escape by yourself."

Candy ignored him, racing around the house, frantically trying every exit. She wanted to get away from the hated wizards who'd taken her life. The other three, Sugar, Spice and Honey, watched her efforts in confusion. There was magic that stopped them leaving. The woman should have known that. Sugar whispered to Honey, "Someone's hurt her."

Harry disregarded Candy, and instead asked, "Is there anywhere else your masters might have taken a new slave?"

"To the Petshop of course."

"The Petshop?"

"They have animals as well, but we know they sell slaves. Not like us, those are just slaves. We're special. They tell us all the time."

"Special. What are your real names?"

"Our old names, you mean? When we were just children?"

"Those names."

They each gave a name, Anne Wallander, Rhonda Thwaites, Siria Sofai. Siria was an extremely beautiful girl who looked Egyptian.

Harry wanted to go straight to the Petshop, but there were these four to be taken care of. He could try and come back, but what if he couldn't? He glanced around, and the collars dropped off the three girls. He commanded, "First, find some clothes and be quick about it. I'm taking you to a place you'll be looked after. No-one is to be enslaved."

The girls were slow, fingering their necks, and looking at each other in bewilderment. The older woman ceased her efforts and returned, staring at the strange wizard, staring at the girls. Suddenly she snapped, "Do it. Get properly dressed, take what you want from the bastards, and I'll get some money. They owe us a _lot_ of money."

She chivied them until each girl was dressed, somewhat oddly, but dressed, and each had a sack full of money, plus anything else they wanted. Meantime, Harry searched the office, looking for lists, and finding an Apparation map, which he pocketed.

Honey called to him, "Are you taking us home now?" and Candy asked, "Or maybe kill us?"

"One by one to a place I know where you can get help. I want you to stay together, and wait for me before telling anyone. I don't want to be surrounded by policemen when I deliver the last. And I strongly suggest you say _nothing_ about wizards and magic. They won't believe you."

"Yes... What did you say your name was?"

Harry hesitated, and Candy nodded quite calmly, "You've forgotten."

"My name is Vonder."

Honey asked, "Can I go first please?"

"There are wards around so the Weasleys cannot come in, but I don't want them trying. So no delay. Honey, come here."

It didn't take long and three girls and a woman were huddled together in a space between bushes. Harry said, "Once I go, you can ask for help."

Candy said, "We have money. Maybe we could just take ourselves home."

"Sure. Good luck," and he was gone.

Sugar said, "He was hurrying."

"He wasn't looking for us, remember. He was looking for someone else."

Spice said wonderingly, "I didn't know. I didn't know I was a slave."

Candy said, "Addresses? Will we take ourselves straight home?"

"How?" and they started to talk about addresses, taxis, trains and buses. Candy had been sixteen when taken, more knowing than the younger ones, but she'd led a limited life for a very long time.

_hphphp_

The Weasley twins were dropped to the floor in a paralysis before they even realised they were not alone. They were now clean, and their various injuries healed. They'd been preparing a potion-laced snack for their prisoners. Harry's gaze went to Blue, now naked, and with a collar around his neck. He had a deep bruise on his right arm, others on his body. He was in a cell on his own, shaking and pale, sitting on the edge of a bed. There were two young girls in a second cell, and one older one in a third.

Harry asked him, "Did they punish you, Blue?"

Blue stared back at him, and gave a bare nod. The older girl said, "He kicked one hard on the leg. We're not allowed to defend ourselves or we get punished."

"They will never hurt you again," and the collars dropped off. Three more girls delivered to London, clothed in a small stock of Muggle clothes he'd found in a back room.

Then Blue, and Harry took him to a place where he could easily walk home, and said, "Go now. You'll be all right now."

"What about the fuckers who took me?"

Harry smiled slightly, "You're learning some tough language."

"You going to punish them?"

"Yes," and Harry disapparated.

Blue stared after the strange wizard who'd rescued him, then turned toward home. He reckoned that one would punish the bastards. It had been very good seeing them frightened on the floor.

_hphphp_

Harry took his time questioning the Weasley twins. He did not release them from paralysis, but it was a variety of paralysis that left their heads and necks free so that they could talk. He'd put his own wards around as he had at the house. No-one would interrupt them.

After an hour, he had details of slaves sold, and who they had gone to. He knew about Cuffe's, knew that it was the only other slave-shop in Britain, and he knew the addresses and apparation coordinates of the two slave-shops in the Northern Alliance. And he was sickened. Sickened that he hadn't known what was happening, ashamed that he hadn't made it his duty to find out, and appalled that Fred and George Weasley had turned into monsters who could take pleasure in hurting children. These were criminals of the worst sort.

The twins' wary gaze still watched him from their positions on the floor, and Fred said, "We've done nothing illegal, you know. The laws against slaves were dropped years ago."

George asked, "Who _are_ you? You look familiar."

Instead of any dramatic unveiling of his identity, Harry made a spell and George was dead. Fred cried out, a hurt of wrenching loss. It didn't last long, as Harry finished him as well.

Harry looked around, feeling ill. This was the place where captured children had been turned into toys for perverted old men, 'the beloved of their masters,' as Honey had put it. He'd burn it down, the house as well. There were cages and pens of exotic animals outside, only about a dozen, but there was no reason to hurt them. His gaze returned to the two bodies on the floor.

When he left, the two bodies lay on the ground outside a cage of little, cute, black and white monkeys. Each twin had his wand in his right hand. It was traditional that wizards were buried with wands in hand. Both wands were broken. In Harry's pocket there were lists of those men who had slaves. He would free them all. Then he'd free those in the Nadlan. It was unspeakably disgusting that wizards would prey on children like that. Harry felt himself shamed to have anything to do with them.

He went home, and Sarah found him being very ill in the back garden.

_hphphp_

Ross Davies watched the police leave, knowing they'd thought the whole strange thing the result of a practical joke, maybe drugs in the lunch. According to Travis, Lee had said that Blue had been taken, but then the boy had returned from the direction of his bedroom and had just shaken his head when he'd been asked if there had been anything happen. But he had a vague memory of him wearing a different jumper in the morning. There were Sean and Pete missing, but a message to the Falmouth police had located them on the wharf, 'making a pest of themselves.'

Paul looked at his bruised and blood-stained knuckles, and a picture of a red-headed man with blood streaming from his nose came to him. He could almost feel the crunch of his nose giving way under his fist. But when he'd said he remembered punching a man, Telley and a few others had laughed at him, and he hadn't said anything else. But there were marks on his knuckles, and he had bruises as well, he thought.

Others had bruises, and John had been crying because his shoulder hurt so much.

Kevin waited, watching. Blue was back, but he wanted to see Lee before he gave in to the pain. No-one had questioned him, though he'd seen the boss looking at him now and then. Travis and Aaron were both close, knowing he was in pain. Chris was preparing his afternoon feed, but he wanted to see Lee before he went back to his own room. And maybe he wouldn't have a feed. Blue was all right, and if Lee was all right... He'd like to know what happened though.

But then he saw Lee walking toward him, raising a hand to Ross, but not stopping.

"Hello Kevin. Would you like to go to your room for a bit? I want to talk to you."

_Yes please._ It was so easy to talk to Lee. He only had to think to him, and he could say what he wanted, as much as he wanted.

Chris had the feed ready in his room, a plastic container of white fluid suspended from an IV stand. To feed him, it was simply allowed to run into the tube on his abdomen that led to his stomach. A morning feed and an afternoon feed. He didn't like it, but he could still feel hunger, and he didn't like that either.

Harry regarded it, and asked, "Do you want that while we talk?"

Chris said, "I'll fix it," and Kevin didn't object.

Once the liquid was running down the tube, Harry said, "Chris? I want to talk to Kevin."

Chris asked, "Kevin?"

Kevin made the voice come, "Yes," and another, the hand slowly moving, "Please." He seldom said Please these days, not that he was being rude, just that each word was an extra effort.

Chris nodded, and said, "The boss wants me to check on a couple of the boys, but just send for me if you want me."

Both Paul and Travis were just outside, also wanting answers, and Ross was hovering.

Kevin asked, _Well?_

"Blue was taken by wizards to be sold as a slave for sex. Slavery was made illegal a long time ago, but it appears they've dropped the law, or that was what the culprits said. They had a slave shop. Three girls at the shop, two of them very young, and Blue. There were also four at their house. I went there first. I wouldn't have known where to go if it wasn't for you. I took them to London, where I guess they're trying to explain what happened to them. I didn't try and make any of them forget, and so I think the secret is out."

_You could have made them forget. How many was that, including Paul?_

"Seven from the Weasleys, not counting Blue, plus another six from a different shop. I have lists of old sales from both shops, and names of seventy-six slaves I have to find and rescue. But I'll do those house by house, in the night."

_Fourteen today. No wonder you're tired._

"It's not just that I'm tired, I knew them well you see. Fred and George, twins, a couple of years older than I am. I was at school with them. I used to like them. They were a bit malicious, played tricks for laughs, but they grew up and turned into monsters. They _hurt _their slaves, just because they enjoyed it."

_Did they hurt Blue?_

"He was briefly punished for fighting, but not badly hurt."

_Is he going to be all right? Are you going to talk to him?_

"I was careful and went in disguise. He doesn't know it was me. Just that two scary wizards took him away, and one scary wizard brought him back."

_He hasn't told anybody what happened. They're totally confused. _

"They might as well stay confused for now. With so many ex-slaves turning up, they'll work it out eventually."

_Did you fight them, those twins?_

"I'm a very powerful wizard. I didn't need to fight."

Kevin asked, _What did you do to them?_

Harry felt it like an accusation though it wasn't. He briefly put his head in his hands, feeling ill again. It was not like killing someone in self-defence. This was Fred and George, and he'd made a judgement, and then he'd killed them. Barnabus Cuffe as well. He shook his head and sat upright. There was no point in being weak, but his voice wasn't as firm as he wanted when he told Kevin that he'd killed them and set fire to the shops.

Kevin felt a fierce satisfaction, _Good!_ But then added, _Lee, it's all right. You did the right thing. Other wizards were not going to do anything were they? And you stopped them hurting anyone else._

"They will not hurt anyone else," but there were still tears in his eyes. Fred and George Weasley, who'd seemed such fun when they were young. He remembered being shunned when he'd been seen to talk parseltongue, and they'd mocked it, 'Seriously evil wizard coming this way.' He'd been twelve, and the Weasley twins had helped make the ordeal bearable. They'd come to his rescue when the Dursleys had locked him into his room. But there were the other things too, their malicious cruelty. The way they'd picked on Ron, and he remembered Ron's terror of spiders. It must have been a nightmare growing up with them. And they'd been taking bets on his surviving the Triwizard Tournament. He'd pretended not to know about that, or maybe that it was a joke, but it hadn't been, not really. If he'd been killed, they would have made money.

And today there had been the woman called Candy, alone in a cell and waiting for the next time they felt like experimenting with spells. He hoped she'd found help, but how could she truly recover from something like that? They probably wouldn't even believe her if she tried to explain.

There was a wave of concern and reassurance from Kevin, that he was a _good_ man, and had done the right thing. Harry felt for a moment as if he wanted to sob his heart out, but of course he was grown up now, and anyway, Kevin was far too frail to hold him and soothe, as he felt he needed. And there were seventy-six to go. Maybe more.

Kevin decided not to ask for the finish for a few days. It looked like Lee, his friend, might not be able to cope with any more right then. And besides, he wanted to know about the seventy-six others.

Harry slipped away very quietly after talking to Kevin. He should talk to Paul as well, maybe tell him he was a wizard. It would probably be a relief to him to know just why his parents had locked him away. Ross would undoubtedly want to talk to him, but he only wanted home, where Sarah was.

***chapter end***


	35. Chapter 35

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: __Kreighley:__ Staff: Ross Davies, manager. Chris, Kevin's nurse, Aaron Bates, once a Kreighley boy, now Kevin's helper. There is also Larry Stern, who goes to Falmouth University. The Senior boys: Warren Stern, Paul, (former 'Cupboard Kid,) Travis, and Telly. Recent arrivals, John, with severe burn scars, and Blue. Also Dallas, Tighe and Sean Swan. * Potter Manor is now called Whiteoaks. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 35**_

On Sarah's insistence, Harry didn't go out that night, but planned to try and sleep during the day, and then, each night, release another half dozen slaves. Apparating was exhausting, but he was a very strong wizard. He wouldn't try and do them all at once, just one by one until there were no more slaves.

Ross tried phoning him, dropped into the Chases's home, looking for him, but aside from a text saying that he'd visit on Sunday, there was nothing. He was convinced that Kevin knew exactly what had happened, but chose not to ask him. It was an effort for the boy to talk. He was a little surprised he was still alive, not knowing how he could retain any pleasure in life.

The woman who'd been called Candy felt herself a stranger in her parents' home. It was lucky they hadn't moved, as it had been twelve years since she'd been taken in the night. Valerian Hopkirk had been her master, and she remembered hating him at the very first. She'd been several times punished, but then one day there had been a new collar, and after that, it had been different. She'd not been unhappy with him, and she'd never been beaten or hurt. And now she was free, a little bewildered, not knowing what to do.

Her mother popped her head around the door, and said in a cheerful voice, "Lunch-time Elizabeth dear, and afterwards, I have a friend who wants to talk to you about a possible job."

A job. Of course she had to have a job. Her parents were old, and her formal education had ceased at the age of fourteen, though Master Val had indulged her with books. She'd read hundreds of books, maybe thousands. She must know an enormous amount about all sort of things. Maybe it would not be so difficult to find her feet again. She hadn't spoken of wizards, only that a man had taken her away, and then she hadn't been able to free herself for years. Her parents assumed white-slavery, - not too far from the truth.

When she felt a little more settled, she'd contact the others. They'd exchanged addresses before separating. None of them had lived far from London, so it hadn't been too difficult to find their homes. She regarded the small ivory statue she'd taken from the Weasley home, and hoped they missed it, the bastards. And the money. She'd taken a lot of money from their office. Had 'Vonder' hurt them? She hoped he had.

_hphphp_

Blue was very quiet, only that straight after Saturday lunch, he went to Kevin and asked if he could talk to him. Kevin wouldn't laugh at him, and Kevin wouldn't tell anybody. Kevin was safe to talk to. Warren was with him, and asked, "Do you want me to go, Blue?"

"Yes, please." The Stern brothers were accustomed to this. Over the last years, Kevin had been the listener for all sorts of private problems, including their own.

Kevin listened quietly when Blue told him of the fracas and the aftermath, and at the end when Blue asked, "Do you believe me?" his hand moved to the 'Yes.' An expressionless, machine voice, but Blue smiled and said, "Thanks."

Kevin quirked his mouth in a half-smile, all he could manage these days, and Blue stood up and asked, "Send someone back to you?"

Again the metallic 'yes,' but Blue was feeling vastly better and called to Dallas that he was going down to the beach and he could come too if he wanted. John wasn't allowed on the beach unless it was overcast, and the day was sunny, the coming days expected to be warmer still.

Paul remembered what had happened more clearly now. There had been a big fight, all of them, even the dog, and the red-headed bastards had been making magic, using wands. And he had punched that one on the nose, hard. He remembered blood, maybe those spots on the floor that the police had forgotten about as soon as Blue had made his appearance. He should have a talk with Blue. If they were wizards, then Blue might know as well.

When the dinner-bell rang on Saturday, Blue and Paul went in together. Paul was more pleased with himself than he'd ever been. Blue had confirmed there were wizards, had confirmed there had been a big fight, and said that Paul had walloped one of them so good... 'You nearly beat them all by yourself, because they made the others faint.' They went and said hello to Kevin before they found their seats. He was the other one who knew. They'd been fussing over Abby as well, but the dog only yawned

Ross creased his forehead. Something had happened and he still didn't know what. It was very frustrating. His best guess was that the meal had been drugged so that someone could take Blue away. Then Lee, (Ricky, Harry?) had gone after him and brought him back. If that was the case, then it was probably the same man or men who'd had Ricky when he was younger. But surely now he could tell him. He was sure that Kevin knew. They were very close, Lee and Kevin.

_hphphp_

When Harry set out to rescue slaves Saturday night, he was much better prepared than he had been on Friday. Sarah had helped set up a place to take them, a rented three bedroom house, warm enough, with mattresses and bedding for a dozen though he didn't expect to rescue more than half that number in a night, supplies of clothing and food, other things that he would never have thought of, and he planned to take them each home in the morning. Word was less likely to get out if they were taken all the way home, rather than having them ask for help. He'd even prepared a dozen fat wallets, though he also took with him several capacious shopping bags. If the freed slaves wanted to help themselves to their former owners' possessions and money, that was fine with him. He was quite sure they'd earned it. They'd probably have their own possessions as well.

At eleven pm, he regarded the palatial home of the Warringtons. He was becoming very good at defeating wards. Soft-footed, he explored the house, coming across a wing where it seemed human servants lived. He made a spell of sleep so that they would not interfere, broke their wands, and started to move on before turning back. These ones were tolerating slavery. He wouldn't hurt them exactly, but he made them sterile, men and women. The two Warrington brothers were already sterile. He remembered doing it, way back when he was at Hogwarts after his leg injury. And Hugh Warrington, their father, was one of those killed at the Vanie Council meeting. He didn't know whether there were any other male Warringtons surviving.

More bedrooms, large, furnished with luxury. Most were unoccupied, but he found three bedrooms occupied by women, and then there was a sitting room, two still up and talking. Sleeping spell, sterilisation and the breaking of wands. He didn't have to see their wands, - he could feel them, like a glow of magic, whether in pockets or on bedside tables. The two men, each in their own enormous bedroom. The spell of sleep, broken wands, and he left them impotent. The Weasleys had sold them a slave just a week before, called Leith Fraser.

It took some looking before he found the way to the slave quarters, and he only found it then when he detected additional wards. He concentrated, trying to work them out. Wards to stop Muggles passing through, that was expected, but others. It was only when he went through that it came to him, - they were wards to make it that females wouldn't notice the door, and would ignore anything about this wing. It was old, as the other one was. Maybe this had been the slave quarters for generations.

They were not big, on the ground floor, and with an enclosed garden. In the one bedroom, he found three youngsters, two girls cuddled up together in the same bed, and a blonde boy wide awake. Like the others had been, they were confused and uncooperative when he made their collars drop away, and he became increasingly impatient. There were a lot more to get to, and he was fairly sure the girls were not on his lists. There could be many more than seventy-six slaves to rescue. No-one wanted to take anything from the Manor, not even the boy, who trembled and hid behind one of the others. He took them to the place he and Sarah had prepared, made it clear they could not leave until morning, and went on to the Bowen place where he found another two girls. One around eighteen, and the other a child of around twelve.

It was taking longer than he expected, and time was getting on. The next place and the next. At least he was finding the slave wings more quickly, but he was becoming increasingly savage with the whole wizarding world as he found evidence that slave-keeping had been going on continuously for generations, not just for the last couple of years. When he found three slaves showing obvious signs of abuse, he not only sterilised all the adult members of the household and broke every wand, but he executed Michael Pettit, Head of Family and Vanie.

Another trip, the slave quarters were empty and he combed the house for the girl they'd bought just two weeks before. He assumed at first he'd find the slave sleeping with one of the men, but the two men of the house, Caleb and Theodore Nott, slept alone. He finally blackened the slave quarters with a controlled blaze of heat, and left. They could take that as a warning.

For six trips, Harry wound up with eleven slaves, most of them just children. It was five in the morning, and he was exhausted. He told the clamouring ex-slaves quite fiercely that he would take them to their homes in the morning, and in the meantime, they were to look after themselves. He ignored questions, but raised a hand to shut them up, and promised to be back by ten. One said very quietly, that they had no clock, but Harry said curtly, "If the wards fall, and you find you can leave, it's twelve o'clock and something's gone wrong. In that case, find the nearest house and ask for help." He didn't wait for questions, but disapparated.

"He's gone," said one, and an older one took charge. "Find someplace to sleep, and he'll come back in the morning. He said he would."

"I liked my master. He was good to me."

"Haven't you seen any older ones disappear? They don't want us after about eighteen. I think I was to be next in my house." There was a girl of about twelve staying very close to her, and the older one patted her on the head, "Tricia would have taken my place. She came a week ago."

The child called Tricia said nothing, but took herself to a mattress on the floor, curled up and went to sleep.

_hphphp_

At Whiteoaks, Sarah was pacing the floor. She'd hardly slept all night, just in the beginning. He'd been so tender in his love-making, almost as if it was the very first time, and it was only when she'd woken a few hours later that she realised that it probably meant that he expected it to be very dangerous, that maybe it could be the last time.

She heard a slight crack in the air, and hurried to the other room to find him slumped in a chair, the face-mask and wig pulled off and thrown into a corner. He was always silent when apparating, the noise this time unusual, maybe that he was too tired to safely apparate. She went to him, stroking, and then caressed his face, feeling it rough under her hand. Tiny red pimples, irritation from wearing the mask for too long. Without comment, she collected a warm face-washer, and bathed his face, afterwards smoothing some soothing cream over his cheeks and jaw. He accepted her ministrations without a word, just leaning his head back and closing his eyes. His hair was flattened to his head, wet with sweat.

At last, she asked, "Bed?"

"I found eleven, in six trips. There are so many more than I thought."

She said softly, "You'll feel better after a sleep."

"I promised to return at ten. Will you wake me at nine?"

_hphphp_

She gave him four hours sleep, prepared a full cooked breakfast, and woke him at nine-thirty. She'd never seen him look so tired, and she had a feeling it was not only because of the multiple Apparation jumps. There would have been the tension as well, creeping about in the homes of his enemies. It was Sunday. Blue had been taken Friday.

The moment Harry appeared in the house where the freed slaves were, he was mobbed. Again he wore the disguise, but this time he was wearing Muggle clothing. His skin crawled under the mask, but he hoped it would not be too long this time, and Sarah had insisted that he have a free night before doing another night like the last. He had to learn how to make Portkeys as well. Voldemort had known how to do it, but his second-hand memory from Voldemort was insufficient to risk the quite dangerous procedure.

One said timidly, "You look like an ordinary person now."

Harry was looking around at the frightened, hopeful faces, but he answered the girl, "I am an ordinary person who can do magic."

"Why aren't you are of them then?"

"Because I don't want to be. And please, all of you, try not to talk about me. Best not to talk about wizards at all. It could draw attention to you as well as to me."

"What did you do to Master Standon?"

"I broke his wand, made the slave quarters all black and burnt, and that's all."

"He didn't treat me badly you know? He was all right."

Harry said harshly, "You were a slave. _Magic_ made you think it was all right."

A boy asked, "What if they don't want us back?" and another, "What if they've moved? I've been gone years."

"If anyone's parents have moved, they can either choose someone else they know or I'll bring them back here for now, but if that happens, you can't go out. I need this place to remain secure."

He didn't want to be cruel to the kids, but he couldn't look after them himself, and it was too risky to try and get help. Sarah was only to come and re-stock the place when it was empty. An older girl raised her voice, "Back off you lot. Mr. Vonder, would you like me to make you coffee or something?"

"I just want your list of names and addresses. I want you home."

The girl bustled around, finding pen and paper in a desk and then setting herself down, and starting to make a list. Harry said, "I should have told you last night," and he beckoned, "You, what's your name?"

A quiet voice came, "Linda Campbell, 52 Halls Gap Road, Stanton."

Harry pulled an App map from his pocket, sat down, and looked for Stanton. There were questions, 'What's that for?' 'Is that so you won't land in the middle of the road?'

Harry ignored them, just writing down the coordinates of the nearest apparation point, and asked, "Got your things, Linda?"

Linda gaped at him, then ran and piled a small collection of toys into a plastic bag and said, "Ready."

They'd all apparated the previous night, though some rather unwillingly. At times he'd thought of force-feeding them all some Ricca potion, just to make them quicker to cooperate.

Linda was the first to be delivered home that Sunday morning. He waited until he saw the girl pulled inside and hugged by a plump woman and returned. "Next?"

It went smoothly, except that in two cases, the families were not at home. But it took only a moment for him to open the locked door by magic, and for the girl or boy to check that it was still their own family's possessions all around. He ignored the tears of emotion, just patted each briskly on the shoulder, and reminded them that the less said the better.

He finished even before eleven, very grateful to remove the mask. Sarah again washed his face, smoothed on some lotion, and then tended to the mask. It would rapidly deteriorate if not carefully cleaned after each use.

_hphphp_

At Kreighley Beach, Paul regarded the water from the high point of Trevanian's Point. He was alone. He took a deep breath, a quick run-up, and into the water, jumping far enough that he wouldn't snag the rocks on the way down. He surfaced, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and grinning in sheer elation. Next time anyone tried to bully him, they'd best watch out. He was nineteen, but only now did he leave behind the frightened little boy who'd been whipped, starved and kept chained to a cupboard in the basement.

_hphphp_

Aaron asked Kevin, "Pain Medication?"

Kevin indicated his assent, but his hand lay still on the keyboard to Aaron's relief. He didn't want Kevin to ask for the strong drug, as he had on Friday after Lee had left. And then he'd slept for hours, still dazed even on Saturday. If he was going to be like that, he might as well be dead. He asked, "Where do you want to go? Rec room?"

Kevin's hand triggered the voice, "No."

"It's too cold for your lookout."

Kevin looked at him. Wouldn't he ask the right question? He wanted to go to the lookout. It was sunny, almost hot.

Aaron asked, "The Lookout?"

"Yes."

"You'll need blankets then. More than one. It's too late in the year really."

It didn't take long for him to be established overlooking the waves. Several chairs were close, and Aaron stayed with him, a book on his lap, but not reading much. Kevin was never left alone, - not these days when he was so helpless. Even a sandfly buzzing around his face could be a problem.

The dog, Abby, meandered to his side and dropped herself with a yawn. If she went down to the beach, the boys would try and make her play, and she was far too old. No-one ever bothered her when she was with the one who didn't move.

It was the last day of the school holidays, and the boys were making the most of it, almost all of them on the beach. Most of them had put the trauma and mystery of Friday right out of their heads. Blue remembered very well, and was at that moment on the beach with Staffy, taking lessons in fighting. And Paul remembered. He wondered if he should pick a fight, maybe assert his new position in the pecking order, but he felt too happy for that. Several of the older ones came to talk to Kevin, usually just a casual comment about the weather.

Kevin was a little cold, and was very grateful when Lee appeared, made the blankets warm for him, and then pulled up the chair to sit beside him. Aaron stood up, "You want to talk privately, Kevin?"

Kevin blinked once. Yes.

"OK," and he addressed Harry, "I'm supposed to be with him until four, and by then, Warren and Larry are expected to be back. Otherwise Travis."

"I'll call you if he wants you."

"I won't be far away."

Once Aaron was out of hearing, Harry asked, "Want to hear what I did last night?"

_Of course. _

"I entered six houses, and freed eleven slaves. It seems some have more than one. I didn't hurt anyone much, but I tried to make sure that I broke every wand in the house. The nearest wandshop is in Denmark, so that will be quite an inconvenience for them."

_Did you have any trouble?_

"No trouble, except that it wore me out, and the kids were not at all obedient."

_The kids? The slaves you mean?_

"Yes," and Harry told him more about it, not just what he did, but how it made him feel, - ashamed to be a wizard. He was like the others with Kevin. He could talk to Kevin. Even with Sarah, he'd minimised the danger, and not told her how very guilty it had made him feel. He should have known about it before. It should never have got to this point. And there were so many to go. It appalled and frightened him. His father-in-law had several times suggested he get a job, but he was very glad that he was not tied to working hours now.

Kevin asked, _So how are you going to proceed?_

"Every second night I think, a half-dozen visits. I was exhausted last night. I can't do more than that."

_Most of them were not ill-treated you said._

"But some were. And some are so young! I don't know how men can enjoy that! It makes me feel ill!" and he lapsed into a morose silence.

Kevin pressured, _Lee?_ and when he didn't respond, shifted his hand until he could press the symbol of his keyboard, "Lee."

Harry looked up, and Kevin told him, _You are a good man, Lee. It is not your fault, you are not to blame, you are helping._

Harry looked away, trying to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. Kevin waited.

They were interrupted when Paul came to them, "Someone told me you were here, Lee. Lee, I jumped off Trevanian's Point!"

Harry laughed, and said mildly, "That's strictly forbidden."

"But you know what it means, don't you?"

"I did it myself when I was about sixteen. I knew perfectly well it was stupid and dangerous, and did it anyway."

"I won't do it again."

"See that you don't. And don't encourage the younger ones. It's a custom best forgotten," but then he grinned, "Well done. Kevin told me you fought splendidly."

"I can't remember very clearly, but hardly anyone else remembers at all."

"What does the boss know?"

Paul shrugged, "I didn't tell him anything."

"What do you think, Kevin?"

_Maybe tell him a little, not about wizards and magic? _

Paul watched, head cocked, and demanded, "What did he say? How can you know?"

"I can hear him in my head."

"Can I try?" and he asked, "Tell me something Kevin."

_I'm cold. I want to go in now. _

Harry asked, "Well?"

"He says I'm very brave, and he wishes he could jump off Trevanian's Point."

Harry grinned, stood up, and started pushing Kevin's chair along the walkway back towards the buildings. Kevin asked, _The Rec room please, and you should go and tell the boss something. _

Ross had been watching for him, thinking that Lee had become a man to be reckoned with. He didn't swagger, as young men so often did, but he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made him appear older than he was.

He was very hopeful when he approached him, but disappointed when all he did was confirm that Blue had been briefly taken, not raped, but hurt a little, and then he'd defeated his captors, and retrieved him.

Harry sat back, a wry twist to his mouth, as Ross continued to throw questions at him, but remained silent until Ross gave up in despair. Once he did, he said, "I did bring one of your boys back. You can offer me lunch here if you like."

Ross growled, "You know you can eat here whenever you want."

Harry grinned at him, "Thanks, Boss."

Ross said in discontent, _"Boss!"_ But then he added, "I'm sorry to pester you. You must have risked your own freedom for William."

Harry said, suddenly cold, "I'm going to pull the bastards down. _All_ of them."

***chapter end***


	36. Chapter 36

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: * 'Cerlikh' is when Voldemort was killed. * 'Toulousaine' is the main Wizarding Area of the Southern Alliance, or Sudlan. It is in France, near Toulouse. The Minister for Magic of the Southern Alliance is known as the Dassier, and the Minister for Magic of the Northern Alliance is known as the Dachier. __Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Warning:**__** There is content in this chapter that can be upsetting for younger readers.**_

_**Chapter 36**_

Harry had found it a real disadvantage to apparate each slave individually. Portkeys had always been closely controlled by the Ministry, the main reason being that they could go so badly wrong, throwing pieces of wizard all over the country. The legend of the 'Berkshire Beast' had originated when a Portkey carrying five people had malfunctioned. So Sunday afternoon, he started to reapply the mask he was beginning to hate. The Resistance was still active, he knew, though the newsletters were irregular, and didn't always contain much information. There had been one the previous day though, clearly stating that the two slave-shops had been burned, the slaves taken, possibly rescued, possibly stolen, and the shop owners killed. And the statement, 'As far as is known, it was nothing to do with the TG.' The Ministry had dubbed them the 'Traitor Group,' and now they'd taken to using the initials. It distanced them from the supposedly law-abiding Women's Resistance.

Again Harry stood quietly in the corner of the large lounge-room on Longbottom Manor, unnoticed under the Cloaking magic. Neville was very active, giving orders, studying maps, and talking to people who came and went, most of them using Portkeys. The floo of course, was Ministry controlled, and there were still many wizards who didn't like apparation. Algernon Croaker, the one who'd made the Portkey for him before, was nowhere to be seen.

Charlie Weasley apparated in, and said to Neville, "It's certain they'll use this as an excuse."

"How's your mother?"

"Devastated. The funeral's tomorrow."

"Did you tell her why?"

"I couldn't, not now."

Neville turned around restlessly, "Why now? It's ruined everything."

"Do you think it was Werner Pilzer?"

"It has to be, doesn't it? He's like a loose hypogryff, stumbling around, messing everything up!"

Charlie mocked, "A little ungrateful aren't you? And I thought you deplored slavery."

"If he's from the Nadlan, - well, they tolerate slaves. I can't understand it. Why would he attack like that?"

"My brothers acted within the law, even if it was a bad law. He killed them. Or someone did. They didn't deserve that."

"If it wasn't that Cuffe was also killed, I'd think it was about something else entirely."

"You never liked them, did you?"

"They didn't deserve to be _killed!_"

Harry disapparated, feeling in a turmoil again. But they _did_ deserve to be killed. Barnabus Cuffe, the Weasley twins, anyone who kept slaves. Innocent children, taken for rape. And Candy, whom they'd been _experimenting_ on. Those deep scars, - she must have been terribly injured, and then healed. He shook his head. There was no point in second-guessing himself. The slavers were dead, and there was no help at the Longbottoms. Maybe it was lucky he hadn't made himself known. He might have found himself in a fight with Charlie, if not Neville. He_ should_ be able to make Portkeys. Surely it couldn't be that difficult.

He half-knew, he'd seen Croaker make one that time, and Voldemort had made them whenever he wanted. He thought about it as he removed and cleaned his mask. His skin was beginning to be very irritated. He'd never suffered much from pimples, the odd one now and then as everyone had, but now his face was a blotchy mess and he wondered if it could be stress as well as the irritation of the mask. Maybe next time, he could simply use a balaclava. Would that be too frightening for the slaves?

Sarah was at the refuge house, re-stocking for the next rescue, but he found her moisturiser for his face before looking over the basement library. So far all the books he'd consulted only listed the dangers of Portkeys, and stated that an experienced and qualified instructor was essential. He persevered, and finally there was something of use - a warning that Muggles had a high mortality rate if any attempt was made to take them by Portkey. Harry shuddered. Fancy arriving with two or three dead children on his hands. There was no help for it. Each slave he found had to be apparated one by one. Even two at a time was too big a risk. If he'd known... He guessed that he was lucky that Muggles didn't die from Apparation. It had never occurred to him. He'd routinely apparated with Sarah for years.

He hugged Sarah very hard when she returned from her day's work. There was no point in refraining from apparation with her now, but he would never have done it if he'd suspected a possible danger. Spells as well. Until he'd asked Poppy about a possible cure for Kevin, years before, he hadn't known that spells were dangerous for Muggles. He'd used an anti-conception spell on each girlfriend at one time, and if he didn't know that Amanda had become pregnant quite soon after leaving him, he would have been far more worried. Healthy children, three of them to his knowledge, so he'd done no harm. All the same, he didn't risk it with Sarah any more. They relied on Muggle contraception.

Sarah was concerned at Harry's face, treated it with moisturiser, and then instructed him to rest in front of the TV with a warm face-washer covering his face. When she checked him after a while, the face-washer had fallen off, and he was asleep. She was very glad he'd agreed not to do any more rescues until the following night, Monday night.

_hphphp_

Hundreds of people attended the Weasley twins' funeral and many spoke of those qualities that had made them so well-liked, - the fun, their optimistic cheer, their generosity. Fred and George had been very popular. Molly Weasley tried to be brave, but tears shone on her cheeks. She'd lost Arthur, and Ginny was gone with her husband, no-one knew where. And now her precious twin boys, fun-loving, mischievous. Everybody had loved Fred and George. Bill and Charlie stood on either side, quietly supportive.

Percy was there with his wife. Penelope had a slight drag on the left side of her face, and limped when she walked. That was damage from Cerlikh, yet Percy cared about her. He no longer worked at the Ministry, but had a job in the office of a building firm. They had two small sons, safe at home with a babysitter. Bill and Charlie's wives and children were hidden away and so were Ginny and Trevor. Trouble was coming. Percy wanted no part of it. He didn't approve of the Ministry and he didn't approve of rebellion against its law.

Ron and Pansy were present, each wearing the Pure-blood's customary mask of haughty disdain. Underneath, Ron was worried. In the Daily Prophet that morning, there had been reports of the Saturday night burglaries of several well-warded homes. There had been no mention of slaves in the newspaper, but word had spread.

He didn't know if Pansy knew about his pet. If so, she did what every well-bred Pure-blood wife was supposed to do, she ignored it. The girl appealed to him, her bright red hair the same as his own. She had spirit as well, she'd even risked annoying him by complaining of the confinement, but the slave quarters had been there for generations, had all the appropriate wards already in place, and there was no possibility that she might venture where she was not supposed to go. In any case, there were the slave spells. Most of all, she wanted to please her master. He'd been thinking of buying two more girls, maybe one very dark and one very blonde, company for Vivvy, and variety for himself. But the slave-shops were gone, their owners dead, and so was Michael Pettit dead. It was rumoured that he may have been killed because of his cruelty to his slaves, but no-one knew.

Fred and George were gone with their malicious grins and their undeserved popularity and success. Would the unknown night-time burglar come after Vivvy? He hadn't had her for long. Maybe if he obliviated and released her, his home would not be targeted. Maybe he should go to Pansy's bed more often. He still cared for her, though he'd just about given up hope of an heir for the Parkinson line.

_hphphp_

Minister Pettit was talking to his Chief Auror, Gawain Robards. Robards said, "It has to be the one who took down Azkaban, maybe even the same who was responsible for the 1999 massacre of Vanie."

"Could it be a group of women? Those ex-Auror women for instance?"

"None of them had the power to defeat wards like that."

"It could also be a team from the Southern Alliance. If so, then it can be taken as a declaration of war."

Robards said cautiously, "I suppose it could."

"You have your people in training?"

"Not as many as I'd like, but yes."

"Then start getting them into position and I'll coordinate with Dache Kuhnast."

Arne Kuhnast was the Dachier of the Northern Alliance, and very willing to help bring the Southern Alliance into submission. The division of territories was already decided. Britain would have Belgium and Spain, plus France. Their Ministry was in France. The Northern Alliance would gain several countries including Italy and Holland. There was quite a large Aniragi population in Holland, though hardly any in Italy.

When word came that there would be action within days, the newly promoted hit-wizard glanced over his short list of targets, and decided on priorities. He didn't have much time as he was to be one of those to strike at the Sudlan Ministry, and take down Dasse Portat. The name of Paul Knight, a previously unidentified Muggle-born wizard, was shuffled to the bottom of the pile in favour of those deemed a greater risk to their world. In the two hours he had left before leaving for France, Conroy Landen killed Stewart Rankin, ex-Auror, his Muggle-born wife and their five children. They'd only been located two days before. A reward had been paid to the informant.

_hphphp_

The Hogwarts school year was soon to begin. There were nineteen new students expected, twelve boys and just five girls. There had been seven girls until a week before, but two enrolments had been cancelled. Slughorn regarded the tattered old hat on the shelf in his office and shook his head. There was no point with so few, and anyway, it worked better if they just separated the boys from the girls. There was such a difference in atmosphere since he'd first arrived to take the position of Potions Master. Then girls would eye the boys, giggle together, maybe flirt. They still eyed the boys, but it was with the look more of prey facing a dangerous opponent. But it was not the boys of their own age they needed to worry about, but all the mature men desperate for an heir. So many of the great houses were in trouble now.

So there would be no Sorting, just that the girls would be housed in the Hufflepuff rooms, with Professor Banning as House Mistress, and the boys in Gryffindor Tower with Professor Landen in charge. He'd wanted them in the old Slytherin quarters, but there seemed to be increasing damp in the dungeons. He shook his head. What was happening to his world? And he went and closed the window. The lake still smelled quite bad.

_hphphp_

Students for Durmstrang always arrived on a Sunday, so the school term had already begun. The headmaster regarded it as an annoying waste of time that Healer Carlyle insisted on examining all the first years as soon as they arrived, but tolerated it.

Hermione did a thorough diagnostic scan over a plump boy of eleven, and noted that he already appeared to be sterile. There was no telling whether it was a result of one or more of her products or something else. By the time she'd checked the thirty-one new arrivals, she'd only needed her sterilisation spells for two boys, though four of the six girls. The spells to determine fertility were her own invention, a variation of two very old spells she'd found in one of the ancient scrolls in the library. It had been difficult to read with the old-fashioned script, but she'd persevered. When Hermione set her mind to something, she was rarely defeated. She hadn't been able to improve the world of Anirage, but was well on the way to bringing it down. Only the Sudlan was relatively untouched.

_hphphp_

It was eleven in the morning, the weather was mild, and Harry sat with Kevin overlooking the sea.

Kevin remarked, _A big swell. I love it like this, the sun shining, and the waves crashing._

"I'll be going after more slaves tonight. We've set up the house better, but I'm still not allowing Sarah to be seen by any of them."

_Would you have known where to go if I hadn't been able to tell you? _

"I would have guessed it was wizards, - but I would never have guessed at these particular ones. It might have been weeks or months before I found him. I might never have found him."

_And Blue would have been abused by a wizard._

"Yes."

_I was of real use then, wasn't I? And now you're rescuing dozens of others. _

"I hope I can. Each one is a risk, and they're warned now."

_They thought I was useless. They looked at me, and I took care not to look back. They just saw the wreck that's my body, and not me, so they didn't bother trying to make me forget. It makes me happy that I could do that. It's a last real thing. And now it's time. Now, when the others are at school, and it's sunny. I don't want even to be moved again, not when each time it seems to hurt more._

Harry had known it was coming, even had a strong suspicion it was to be today, but still... He'd miss Kevin. Life was hard sometimes. He wanted to do this for him. His friend had endured so long and so much. He said quietly, "You have helped so many of us. Even me. I've told you things I've never told anyone. It helps to tell people sometimes."

_And I saved Blue._

"You did."

_ So I want you to take my hands, not hurt me, but just end it. I want you to do it now please, Lee. _

"My real name is Harry Potter."

_ Lee, will you do it now? Please?_

Harry shifted his chair so that it was facing him, took the thin, near-helpless hands in his own, and waited. Kevin twitched his mouth in an attempt at a smile_. Now, Lee._

Harry used his magic, and Kevin closed his eyes, then ceased to breathe. A gentle, easy death for his friend who had endured so much. Kevin Stern was gone, and Harry bent his head and cried. Life was too hard. Wicked people thrived, and this courageous young man had suffered and suffered and was now finished.

***chapter end***


	37. Chapter 37

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**Chapter 37**_

Nearly eleven at night, and Sarah made up a place for another person to sleep. Three bedrooms in what she called 'Homesafe,' some beds ready made up, plus a couple of mattresses on the floor, more stacked against a wall. Extra bedding was folded in the corner. If there were too many for the beds, they could make their own sleeping place. She'd instructed Lee that he was _not_ to do more than six trips, less if he became too tired. It was dangerous to apparate when tired, he'd told her that.

She wished he would allow her to stay and look after the rescued slaves, but he'd been adamant that she not have anything to do with wizards. She thought his worry exaggerated but she hadn't argued, not when he was going into danger. And he'd helped Kevin to die. That had had to be difficult.

She looked around and smiled ruefully. She'd gone a bit overboard with the signs_, 'Food here,'_ and _'Clothing, choose something to wear.'_ '_Write down your name and full address here.'_ Maybe the signs would make them feel as if someone cared, even if no-one was there. She was sorry for the first, who'd probably be terrified to be left alone. Just children most of them, Lee said.

One more sign, and she placed it in a prominent position on the kitchen table, _'You'll be going home to your own parents tomorrow afternoon.'_ Not until the afternoon this time. Her Lee was going to have a proper rest after the night of 'burglary.' It's what the Daily Prophet had called it, burglary and murder. Her Lee, loving husband, loyal friend, sometimes too serious, reserved even with James and Vera whom he loved. He'd killed three wizards on Friday, and another Saturday night. On Friday, he'd also rescued thirteen slaves not counting Blue, another eleven on Saturday night. He'd said that he assumed slaves were put down once no longer wanted, so it was not just a rescue. He'd saved their lives.

Harry arrived silently into the next room, and called quietly, "Sarah?" He always took care not to startle her, not since he'd apparated into her presence once, and she'd dropped the meal she'd been preparing.

She turned and greeted him, but he was looking around and grinned, "TV?"

"Why not? They can't go outside, and they'll be bored waiting for you."

"I've been trying to think of someone I could ask to look after them, but I just don't trust anyone enough. And anyway, it's just a few hours."

"I put some toys there as well. You can tell them they can take anything they want except the furniture, and I'll buy more stuff tomorrow. It's actually rather fun."

"Did you remember clothes for boys as well?"

"I only remembered because of Blue."

"About Paul. I don't know whether to tell him he's a wizard or not. He won't be proud to be a wizard, and as far as I know, there's been no accidental magic. There was probably something when he was little, but nothing since we've known him."

"Maybe tell him when you're finished with the slaves. I think you have your hands full right now."

"I knew Kevin was ready to die. It shouldn't hurt so much."

Sarah went to him and held him. He'd known Kevin these last years as no-one else did, the only one who could easily talk to him. It was no wonder he was distressed at the loss.

Harry took enormous care entering the first house. It was not long after eleven, and people could easily be still up. They were warned. He already knew the wards had been added to, probably just that day. He would have liked to cast a spell of sleep over the whole house to include all the people within, but there were children and there were Muggles. Even a spell of sleep could kill a Muggle. He walked on, and then stopped dead, senses prickling. A booby trap, but magical luckily, so he could sense it. If the wizards stuck to magical defences, it would not be too difficult.

This was the house of Ludo Bagman, not a big house. He'd bought a slave from Cuffe's a couple of months before. He had the details, 'Trudy,' not newly caught, but one who'd been traded back for a younger one. She'd been cheap. Cuffe had noted 'collar, no spells.' Harry assumed that meant that she could still be punished with the collar's pain spells, but would not be 'loving' her owner. He hoped for a quick and easy recovery.

He was right, and was pleased to deliver the woman to the house, one who still had her wits about her. Trudy, he guessed in her mid-twenties, a very beautiful woman. He told her that he'd be collecting a young child next, and could she please try and be nice to her. She asked, "You're really going to take me home?"

"Yes," but before she could ask anything else, he apparated to the home of the one who'd bought a nine-year-old girl, also from Cuffe's. He was thinking that this one he should definitely castrate, if not kill.

That one was quick, but the child was screaming when he released her in the lounge-room and returned to the spread out list and the App. Map. The older girl gathered the little one in her arms, and hugged her until the screaming wound down into hiccupping sobs. By that time Harry was already gone, back in short order with a boy of around twelve, who immediately fled from his grasp, but just crouched, pale and trembling in a corner. He was naked, and the older girl said in a calm voice, "Clothes in the corner, pyjamas if you like. Vonder's going to take you home tomorrow."

A shaky voice, "Home?" He was already grabbing at the clothes.

Harry said, "I'm bringing another boy from that same place. You're being a great help thanks, Trudy."

"How many altogether?"

"A few more places. I'm trying to get the younger ones first, but I can't do too many in a night." He smiled at her, and vanished.

Trudy looked back at the boy, "Will we look in the kitchen? There's going to be more coming. Maybe we could find some biscuits or something."

"It was horrible. He just grabbed me out of the bed, and then we were spinning..."

"Did you have a collar?"

The boy put his hand to his neck, and said, "It's gone."

"That means you're not a slave any more."

"I had to do what he said or he hurt me. Hurt me bad."

"I don't know why they'd want a boy. It's not as if they'd want you for sex."

The boy stared at her, finished dressing, and then started walking toward the kitchen. He wanted something to eat, and what would his parents say to him? It had been awful, but didn't hurt as much if he didn't fight it. The collar could make awful pain, and then the other would happen anyway. Brad had told him it was best not to fight, but he hadn't been able to at first.

It was a half an hour before the wizard reappeared with Brad, and then there was a cut grazing his forehead. Brad was holding himself stiff, but raced to his friend, but then stopped and asked curtly, "All right?"

"Sure. You hungry? We've got chocolate biscuits, ice-cream, soup if you heat it up. There's a microwave. Coco-pops, lots of things."

Harry asked, "Trudy, are you up to coping with more young ones?"

"Better to get the young ones as soon as possible."

Harry studied the lists and she looked over his shoulder, and at last asked, "This one?"

"Hillary Kelly, aged eight, sold to Thamius Smith." He remarked, "Sold by the Weasleys. At least she'll have the slave spells."

"Slave spells?"

"So the slave thinks she's not a slave. It makes her think she loves her master. Some slaves have them, some only have the punishment spells." He started looking over their lists of wizard homes for the Smith place. A little girl just eight years old. How could a child recover from abuse like that?

He plucked the little girl from the arms of her sleeping master, delivered her, then returned to the same place and killed Thamius Smith. There were several other adults in the place, plus several children. There would be no more children born to any of those adults. The child had been just eight years old.

Again he finished the night very tired, but not as tired as he'd been on the first occasion. He was becoming used to invading his enemies' homes at night, and he'd managed to avoid waiting traps, and hadn't stumbled into the places where wizards had stayed awake to watch. He didn't know how they were going to cope without their wands the following day, but that was their problem.

Trudy was left with nine children, the oldest of them thirteen. Harry's face was itching furiously under the mask, his forehead was stinging where Brad had attacked him, his legs were bruised where he'd been kicked, and he was tired from the tension as well as the effort involved in defeating powerful wards and performing multiple apparations. He went home to Sarah, taking no notice at all of the demanding voices.

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British Intelligence Agent, Stephen Baxter, looked through a pile of reports. They were varied, reports derived from the internet, cuttings from newspapers, even excerpts from bugged phonelines. Most he put aside for filing, those that appeared unrelated to his job - that of searching for evidence of magic and wizards. CIA insisted they were real. British Intelligence wondered what game the mad yanks were playing.

He scanned over a news item, then returned for a closer look, that a girl of fourteen had been picked up at Bradford, confused about how she'd got there, but talking about her 'Master Ron' who was a wizard. She'd been identified as Vivienne Laycock, aged fourteen, who'd been missing from her home since July 31st. Medical reports stated that she appeared unharmed, though her status as _'virgo intacta'_ had not been ascertained.

He read over the item again, and then turned to his computer to try and get a fuller account. There were things come up, but suddenly it seemed rather boring, and he yawned and decided to have a cup of tea first.

When he came back a half hour later, he glanced at the article on his desk with profound indifference, threw it in the bin, and brought up _'Busty Beauties'_ on the internet.

There were some very clever wizards working in the Department of Mysteries.

_hphphp_

For Harry, Wednesday night was almost a repeat of Monday night, except that he wore a black balaclava, and there was no sensible Trudy to keep the younger ones calm. Twice, hysterical ex-slaves attacked him, not quite understanding why they'd been taken from their homes. He didn't want to have to defend himself against them, didn't want to use any form of compulsion, but their behaviour was far from helpful. He was taking big risks going anywhere near wizards, and didn't have time to try and calm them.

When he found his App map torn and on the floor, he swore violently and told them if he was killed, then they'd have to look after themselves. There was a silence then as he repaired the map, then rearranged furniture so that one of the bedrooms became an office for himself, the door warded against entry.

Six nerve-racking trips, eight retrieved slaves, and he sat at the table in his 'office,' head in hands. A girl of around sixteen lingered at the door, "Sorry."

Harry looked up, weary, "I'll take you home tomorrow afternoon. Have everyone write down full names and addresses."

"Are you leaving us?"

"For now. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon. You're not allowed out. Try not to let anyone kill each other." There had been a fight earlier, two boys rolling on the floor, punching at each other. Maybe it was sexist, but to Harry, it seemed that such slavery was worse for the boys, and he'd been giving them some preference, but the girls were mostly easier.

Sarah jumped when he spoke her name, and then went to him, caressing the tired face, "How many?"

"Eight. I've made one of the bedrooms into a place where only I can go. They were wrecking the place."

"Maybe it's the balaclava. It makes you look evil."

"I was seen twice. I need it."

"I'll give it some thought."

Harry didn't sleep well that night, fretting in his sleep. Sarah concluded that he was over-tired as well as stressed. At least his face wasn't as bad. He needed something to conceal his face, and yet something that made him appear friendly, not threatening. She smiled, she knew just the thing.

When Harry woke late the following morning, Sarah was already gone, with a note left. For the first time, Harry really missed the house-elves. It would have been nice to be waited upon. Eight to take home. He just hoped they'd cooperate.

He had a quick bowl of cereal, looked at the balaclava, but started putting on the mask instead. It wouldn't be for long and he could hardly appear in suburban streets looking like a criminal. And he had to be more gentle with them. It was not their fault he'd nearly been caught.

He apparated into the bedroom he'd made his office, rattled around a bit so they'd have warning, and then opened the door, "OK kids, one by one, I'm taking you to your own homes."

Things seemed to have sorted themselves out after he was gone, because the same girl who'd apologised the previous night, said, "We thought youngest to oldest if that's all right, Mr. Vonder."

"Good idea. So who's youngest?"

A child stepped forward, and he asked gently, "Do you have your things?"

"Yes, Mr. Vonder. Are you Mr. Vonder? I thought you were thinner."

"I'm Mr. Vonder. What's your address?"

"63 Church Street, Coventry."

Harry retreated to his map, and worked out the closest point. The girl plus several others watched him silently until he came out, wrapped an arm around the girl, and they were in Coventry, a quiet shrubbery behind a church. Apparation points were always places where Muggles seldom went, most of them with wards that made them just slightly unpleasant to be. It meant that even if a Muggle had reason to be there, they never lingered.

Harry looked around, "Which way, do you know?" But the girl was already hurrying down the street. Harry followed, a few steps behind, but only watched as she tried the door, waited and then headed toward the back of the house. Finally she came out the front, and waved to him, waiting from further away. He approached and she said awkwardly, "What am I going to tell them?"

"That someone took you away. It's best not to say anything about magic or wizards. You don't want to draw attention to yourself, and I don't want you to draw attention to me."

"He was nice to me even when he hurt me sometimes. But he shouldn't have done it, should he?"

"It was a very bad thing to do to you. It's only magic that makes you think it was not too bad."

The child stared at him and then nodded, "Thank you Mr. Vonder. Rhonda's next youngest."

It went very smoothly from then on, until Harry looked around at the messy house, now empty of occupants, and made a few charms to clean and tidy. There was no need to make Sarah work harder than necessary. He'd help her shop as well.

Sarah heard him the moment he returned, and hurried to him, "Everything go smoothly?"

"Much better than last night. They all seemed convinced I was there only to hurt them last night."

Sarah grinned, "I have something to fix that. In the next room."

Harry stared and laughed, but then said, "No way I'm wearing underpants on the outside."

"The Batman head-gear, and the Batman top with the bat-symbol, cape maybe, and you should be wearing gloves. I didn't think of that before. Ordinary jeans if you want, but black."

"Maybe they'll welcome me as a superhero." He was examining the costume. The hood was good quality thin soft leather, lined with cotton. There was a belt, and he remarked, "The belt pockets will be handy, and I'll use a wrist-holster for my wand."

"I thought of Spiderman first, but he has a covering over nose and mouth as well as something over eyes. You have to be able to see, so the Batman is easier."

"Everyone knows Batman as a Goodie, and the Spiderman movie was only a couple of years ago. Lots won't know him."

"There's another thing. You told me about Trudy, that she was a great help Monday night - so I went and asked her..." Harry was frowning, and she said, "In disguise. I can do disguise too, you know. Anyway, she's agreed that she will come and help each time, and I've said we'll pay her like a proper job."

Harry thought about it, took a step toward her, hugged her and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek, "Genius! Things are bound to go easier now."

"Then after lunch, I'll check the house and start re-stocking. I want to rent a house nearby as well, so I don't have to drive as far."

"It's taking a lot of your time."

"Is there anything more worthwhile I could be doing?"

On Friday night, a teenage girl stared at him and said, scoffing, "Batman? You're joking." Her slave collar fell away, and Harry said, "Maybe not Batman, but I've come to take you away from your slave-master. You can go home."

The girl fingered her neck, still stared at him, but finally did just exactly as he told her. When she arrived at 'Homesafe,' Trudy was there with a mug of hot chocolate and marshmallows. There were still a few ex-slaves slow and uncooperative, but Batman didn't strike fear as a mysterious intruder in a black balaclava did. There were no close calls that night, the wizards either asleep or in three cases, not at home.

_hphphp_

Ron carefully checked his enormous home for signs of an intruder in the night, glanced in at the former slave quarters, but left the thick layer of dust undisturbed. He wanted to keep his wand, and he'd already heard that the thief had again been active. He'd never have thought of the dust, but Pansy had. He'd been a little shamed when she'd brought up the subject, but she'd been totally matter-of-fact, and said that there had always been slaves when her parents were alive. He hoped that Vivvy was all right. He'd been fond of her.

It had taken a while for Vivvy to get her picture of Master Ron clear in her head after the poor attempt at obliviation. She wrote it down carefully, tall, quite thin, (small belly) red hair, he snored, and he could do magic. She thought he was brother to the ones who owned the slave-shop, and her description of the twins was detailed and accurate. She'd _hated_ them. But she didn't have any idea where the shop was, and hadn't seen any part of Master Ron's house but the slave quarters. On Monday, she'd ask to see Officer Raikes again, but she'd warn him about the magic. Maybe he could just bomb the house. Wizards could not use magic if they were in bits thrown around the countryside, and the redhead grinned. Served him right. It may not have felt like it at the time, but it had been rape. She didn't quite understand why she hadn't fought harder at the slave-shop, but the policeman had said that it was possible she'd been drugged.

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Angelina called the owl to her and said to her husband, "From Cecy."

"Read it to me, would you?"

Angelina sliced open the letter, the first since Cecilia had gone to Hogwarts, and started reading aloud.

"I wanted to play Quidditch like you and Dad did, but girls aren't allowed. And you said the pictures move, and they don't, or only a bit sometimes. And magic's hard. I thought it would be easy but Professor Kelly showed us and showed us how to do a Levitation Charm and none of us could do it. Is there a better school for girls? Because I don't like this smelly old place."

Terrell looked in the direction of the school room where his two little girls were laughing with their teacher. Beauxbatons was probably still good for girls, but there had been hints that it would not be for long. He said, "She's probably just a bit homesick. Ask her about the other girls, and I've heard that Susan Banning is very nice."

"I vaguely remember her. She used to do subjects like cooking, cleaning and Household Management."

Terrell said bracingly, "Well they're all important for girls."

Angelina dropped the letter in front of him, and wondered how to join the more active part of the Women's Resistance. She didn't want to leave Terrell, but her daughters were important as well. According to a recently-passed Ministry law, all children belonged to their father. If she tried to take her children, she would be acting against the law, as well as against her husband.

Terrel asked, "Angie?"

"I think that we might as well have let You Know Who win. There's no difference." Her voice was bitter.

That day, the plan for the Northern Alliance and Britonaum to take over Sudlan was put into action. It went without a hitch, mostly because of the help of several Sudlan wizards, two of them Department heads who'd been willing to turn traitor for the promise of power and money. The Nadlan Aurors dealt with the Ministry and Britain took over the Toulousaine and Beauxbatons Anaragias, ensuring that no-one escaped. It only remained to advise the population of the new rule, quell any pockets of resistance, arrest those who'd been working against Britain's interests, and take their spoils.

Two-thirds of the Sudlan Aurors were male. Almost to a man, they agreed to work for the new Administration rather than remain as prisoners. Most of the male administrators also agreed, while nearly all the females were dismissed from their jobs, and if they objected too much, their wands were confiscated. It had taken just days, Sudlan was lost, and there had been no fuss that Muggles might have noticed.

A lot of the Sudlan wizards were not unhappy with the change. Their new 'Ministry' may have been ruled from Britain, but most functions would go on as before, no women would tell them what to do any more, and the anti-slavery laws were no longer relevant. There might have been more determined resistance if the men had not seen the advantages in accepting the changed rule.

Nothing had yet been reported in any of the newspapers.

***chapter end***


	38. Chapter 38

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 38**_

It was Saturday, eleven in the morning, Kreighley Beach Boys' Home. The gathering was for a Remembrance and Celebration of Life for Kevin Philip Stern, died aged eighteen. They were at Kevin's Lookout Spot, which was to be made more solid, with good seating and a plaque with Kevin's name on it. There was a large gathering, and Ross scanned his eyes over the crowd. All his boys of course, a dozen older ones, returned for this occasion, and several relatives of the Sterns, most of whom had scarcely known him, but now stood in the forefront, 'family.'

But it was his Kreighley boys who'd been family, particularly Lee, who'd visited almost every day, and had been so utterly distressed when he'd died. Lee, who was normally so controlled. Once before he'd broken down like that, when he'd returned from some sort of captivity and weeks of stress. He hoped he wasn't stressed because he was putting himself in danger now. When he'd said that he was going to bring the bastards down, he'd assumed he'd finally go to the police, but he hadn't heard anything. He looked controlled enough now, standing next to Paul. Dallas, Blue and John were also close, the youngest ones.

Ross scanned over the crowd of boys, but no-one was in too much distress. Among the adults, Aaron was looking strained, and Lionel had tears running down his face, though Chris only looked serious. Warren was talking now, "He liked to boss us around; I think it made him feel better." And then it was his Aunt, "He used to walk funny. We thought it was cute when he was little. We didn't know..." But then her husband put an arm around her and it seemed she was finished.

One of the 'old boys,' Mike. "You could tell him things. He'd never tell anyone else, and you could trust him. He was a friend."

There was a silence, and Ross asked, "Lee? You knew him well."

Harry stepped forward, "As Mike said. I told Kevin things I've never told anyone. He was a friend."

Larry nodded at Warren and they stepped forward with the urn of ashes, and tipped it up to allow the contents to run down into the hole they'd prepared close to the cliff edge.

It was done, and Paul edged closer to Lee, trying not to cry. He was nineteen, a man, and should not cry. It wasn't stopping Lee, who wiped tears from his eyes, and abruptly turned away.

Donna joined them, the Social Worker, "He's in a better place now, where there's no pain, and he can walk and run and be active. He is with God."

Dallas asked, "Is that right, Lee? 'Coz I think she's talking bullshit. I don't think there's a God or he wouldn't have done it."

Lee walked to the edge of the cliff, but the others followed him, and Dallas asked again, "Do you think there's a God, Lee?"

Harry stared out over the sea, quite calm, low tide, and finally said, "Some people believe there's a God and find comfort in it, others pretend to believe in God, and I think most think it's a myth for children, but quietly. Religious people become very offended when others say there's nothing in it."

"Then he's just gone."

"Personally I'd rather be just gone than hauled up for judgement by some almighty twerp and asked to account for myself. Seems to me that if there is a God, then _He_ should account for himself!"

Donna stared at him, then walked away. How often had she thought the same thing? She saw some horrible things in her job. Paul had been the worst, but Lee himself, or Ricky as he'd called himself then, had a history as well.

She made an effort, speaking to a few others of the boys. At least some seemed to like her, Lucas for instance, and Peter.

By the time she went home, she'd convinced herself that Kevin's illness and death was a part of God's Grand Design. Hadn't he helped several of the boys by being there, by being able to listen? She hadn't been able to help the ones who refused to talk to her, but Mike had talked to Kevin, it seemed, and Lee. Lee had admitted talking to him as well. He'd certainly never talked to her.

Several times that day, Abby was chased away from the soft dirt where Kevin's ashes had been buried, but at dinner, she had her opportunity. Her nice large marrow bone, favourite of weeks of chewing, was deposited on top of the few ashes that had survived her energetic digging. Most of the ashes blew away in the cold wind, though some settled on the roof of the Rec room, the tallest building in the complex. Abby nosed another pile of dirt over the bone, not quite concealed, and wandered toward the Dining Hall. John would tell her sternly that she was not to be fed at the table, but she knew the ones who would slip her something.

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Neville asked, "What do you think, Uncle? Will we continue sending newsletters to Pilzer? It could be a bit of a risk."

"I think we should have no contact with him. It has to be him that's taking the slaves, which makes him not just a murderer, but an unpredictable one."

"Connor said that Anton woke up late in the morning, his wand broken, his pet gone, all his loose money, and even a particular ornament he said that the girl always liked. It seems he's letting the freed slaves take whatever they want!"

"Has anyone tried to find them?"

"Not as far as I know. I just hope he knows that he can't just let them loose."

Croaker said uneasily, "I hope so."

"If he's living Muggle, he may not know about the Sudlan takeover. Nothing's been in the Daily Prophet."

"They don't have a firm hold yet."

"It was a master stroke taking Beauxbatons at the same time as the Ministry. No parents are going to fight if their children are in the hands of the new administration."

"Not their usual incompetence, that's for sure."

"I hope the Blacks escaped, especially Mary. We've heard nothing from them."

"They had a good idea it was coming, and they're not amongst the list of those under arrest so I guess they're all right. I was wondering what happened to Madame Maxine."

Croaker shrugged indifferently. A part giant was of no concern to him.

_hphphp_

Sarah said firmly, "Not tonight, and not tomorrow night. You've been too predictable. They might even think you've given up if you skip a day."

Harry said half-heartedly, "There's still a lot to go..."

"No. You have a rest. Monday night, and we'll have Trudy there, and go after the remaining young ones you have listed."

"Even that will take several more nights. They didn't seem to sell many older than fourteen, a few sixteen, but none older except for the occasional second-hand one."

Sarah said disgustedly, "Second-hand! We're talking about human beings here!"

Harry looked at her uncertainly, "Sorry."

Sarah hurried to him, "Darling, it's not your fault. You're risking your life every single time you go. I keep reminding myself that you have more power than any of them, but I still worry."

"I'm glad you haven't tried to stop me."

Sarah gave a twisted smile, "So could we go to the police instead? Somehow I don't think it would work."

On Monday night, Harry left Trudy at the house, and started out. He'd been putting it off, but this time he went to the Parkinson house. 'Vivvy' sold to Ron by his brothers. She'd been expensive, more so than usual. No discounts for a brother, it seemed.

There were no traps this time, and no-one lay in wait. The servants' quarters first, and as usual, he cast a spell of sleep over the several servants before continuing. There were far more human servants hired by the rich ones since the house-elves had found their freedom. Then the master and mistress, Ron and Pansy, sleeping close together. Ron was softly snoring. How many nights had Harry gone to sleep to the sound of that peaceful sound? He left them alone while he searched for the slave quarters. He didn't want to think that Ron would have slaves, but his brothers had _dealt_ in slaves.

The slave quarters were empty. Softly he walked in, inspecting. Nothing but dust. Odd that there was dust. A dust removal spell was very simple, but dust there was, lots of it. There were a lot more on his list, and he disapparated, very happy that he hadn't had any reason to hurt Ron.

The rest of the night went smoothly, the slaves taking in the Batman costume, and willing to take him on trust the moment he freed them from their collars. There were traps at several places, guards awake and alert at others, but he was getting better at sensing the magic, and was beginning to think that he could even sense the magic of a guard waiting close. Each time he broke the wands of the wizards, but had mostly stopped breaking the wands of the women. Sarah had pointed out that the women needed no more disadvantage than they had. There were no close calls.

Trudy bustled around over each new rescued ex-slave, assuring them that they were safe and would soon be home and free and meantime there were clothes to choose because they were not slaves any more and had to have normal clothes, and did they want hot chocolate or maybe ice-cream? She may not have been experienced at looking after traumatised ex-slaves, but her happy ineptitude was soothing, especially when she said that she herself had only been freed days before.

Ron and Pansy slept a little late in the morning, found breakfast was not yet prepared, and went to inspect the slave quarters. There were footprints in the dust. Aside from everybody sleeping late, it was the only sign that there had been a visitor in the night. Pansy consoled, "He can't possibly last long. Once he's killed, you can have another."

Ron turned to her, "You're the best, Pansy."

"I've thought of one for myself. Probably the Nadlan slave-traders know some suitable spells."

Ron was astounded, but Pansy smiled a secretive smile, and didn't tell him just what she had in mind. Her mother had enjoyed Carl so much, and she wanted one like him - full grown, in his twenties maybe, muscular, not a spare ounce of fat, and doting on her, willing to do exactly what she wanted. She assumed Carl had been put down after her parents died, along with her father's toys. She'd seen Carl, but she'd never seen her father's, didn't even know whether he'd preferred girls or boys.

_hphphp_

Hermione was devastated when staff-room gossip informed her that there was no more Sudlan, just the EA, or European Alliance and an expanded Britonaum. For years she'd intended to break away one day to where she could live respected, Muggle-born or not. And maybe there would be someone who might like to marry her. Maybe someone who'd like to adopt. Sometimes she missed Tracey and Vayden so much - she was beginning to think that Tracey had been the more admirable person. Maybe she should shun men, and find a Half-blood woman with children. A widow maybe. There were plenty of widows.

A few days later, she was informed that there was a large new market opened up for her products. The former Southern Alliance, Sudlan. Maybe there was a chance that the Sudlanders might manage to retake power. If so, it could still be her refuge one day. Maybe it wasn't necessary to totally exterminate wizards. If there was a struggle, the Sudlan authorities might even take over here, and she would be freed.

The products that went to what had been the Southern Alliance were innocent. As they began to be widely distributed, an elderly witch, formerly a highly respected Ministry worker, analysed them very carefully, wrappings and packages as well as the lotions and potions. She paid extra attention to the attractive little toys that came with children's no-tears shampoo. The Seers had been warning about imports, though not a hint that a takeover was imminent. It was one of the many problems with prophecies, that the time-line tended to be so vague as to be useless.

There was nothing suspicious to be found on Hermione's products, and the woman turned her attention to the new brooms that were flooding the market.

_hphphp_

Back in Britain, the Acting Chief Auror faced the three latest of a series of furious wizards. One was in the middle of a rant, "Just walked in, left us with broken wands, and the slaves were gone! Is no-one trying to catch him? It's ridiculous." And another, "My brother was killed! Just found dead when his servant went to wake him in the morning. He's a murderer."

Proudfoot said, "He only kills the ones who've been abusing their slaves."

"Nonsense! And anyway, it's irrelevant! Is he to be allowed to wander our homes at will?"

Another, "It just can't go on! He gets through wards, security guards are found asleep in the morning... _Do_ something!"

Proudfoot spread his hands in helplessness, "We have a force of Aurors on Outreach Duty. There's hardly anyone left, and we need a team, maybe a trap."

The man thrust his furious face toward the young man, "You think there haven't _been_ traps?"

Proudfoot held his ground, "Minister Pettit is expected back in a fortnight. There is nothing I can do at the moment except to advise you to hide your wands."

The three men looked at the Acting Chief Auror, and one made a sound of utter disgust before the three wheeled and stalked out. Proudfoot wiped his brow. He hadn't told anyone, but he'd been a victim himself a few days before. Luckily he'd left his own wand at the office, using one taken from a prisoner instead. He caressed his wand and commended himself on his forethought. He'd made no traps, nothing to annoy the Intruder, and he'd wound up losing only his slave and a few unimportant items from his home. Sometimes powerful dark wizards were better placated than opposed.

_hphphp_

Rita Skeeter accepted the instructions for the spell from Padma and studied it. Padma said, "Charlie says that the men are taking their wives' wands. This way there's no point."

"If I publish it, the Weekly will be closed down."

"There must be ways."

"Maybe..."

A few days later, Julia Carlyle raised her eyebrows as she read the article in _Witch Weekly_ on customising a wand. Prettily decorated wands were displayed as examples. If she hadn't been bored, she might not have read so far - _No. 1, 'Decorating with ribbon,' No. 2, 'Decorating With Colour,' No. 3. 'Decorating With Trinkets'_ and _No. 4, 'Making It Your Own.'_ It was No. 4 that gave detailed instructions on how to put a spell on your own wand so that no-one else could use it. She worked the spell on her own, and wondered whether to tell Lauris. It was three years since the girl had been forcibly Bonded to Tonius, but it had been a strong Bond. If she told Lauris, she might tell Tonius, and this was something the men should not know.

Word spread quickly over the next few days, and the next time a wizard lost his wand and tried to use his wife's wand, he yelped. It was only a small burn, but he yelled at his wife for a bit before flinging it back at her. Daphne smiled. Her husband was forty-three. If he did a few reckless things, appeared to get drunk too quickly and then stopped going out in public, people were likely to assume Mordred's Curse, and ask no tactless questions when he died. Few witches were willing to directly go against their husbands, but some were. And Daphne, formerly Daphne Greengrass, House Slytherin, did not appreciate being a second-class citizen.

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Harry counted down over his list, and said to Sarah, "There's still so many to go, and they know I'm coming now. I think I should be less predictable."

"Would it be easier to go in the daytime?"

"Maybe it would. They won't have set their traps..." He paused, thinking, "I'll put on the Vonder disguise in case I'm seen by wizards, and go now, just spying maybe to begin with. I might even ask someone."

"A problem?"

"Two places empty where there should have been slaves. I'm worried they're killing them."

"They wouldn't!" and then after a moment, "I suppose they would. They just don't think we _Muggles_ have any right to exist."

"I've made three trips now using Trudy. I think we should trust her, let her live here if she wants, and adjust the wards so she can come and go, even if the others are kept inside."

"I've never liked that you keep any of them behind wards."

"Too dangerous not to. Some would be bound to blab. Best if they never know where they were."

"You're right, of course. So go and get Trudy, and then do some spying, and Trudy will be here if you need her."

An hour later, Harry stood quietly in the corner of a large dining room of Abercrombie Manor, listening to the lunch-time conversation. Eight men, only two of whom appeared to live there. No women present. The 'Midnight Intruder' was the main topic of conversation all through Britain, so it was no coincidence when the silent watcher heard himself being discussed.

An elderly man whom Harry tentatively identified as one of the less important Abercrombies, said, "Do as Turpin did, hide your wand away, and just let him do as he pleases. There's no going against someone with that much power."

Another said stubbornly, "He's not having mine. I'm going to put her down. This afternoon, in case I'm next on his list."

"He probably had his list from the slave-dealers."

"I did away with mine last night. They cost me a fortune too."

Harry spoke very coldly, "Killed them?"

They spun around in shock, but not a one managed to draw his wand before they fell to the ground in an almost complete paralysis.

Harry asked the one who'd said he'd 'done away' with his slaves, "Did you kill them?"

The man struggled against answering, but there was a magical compulsion in Harry's words, and he admitted, "I killed them."

"What is your name?"

"Octavio Robards."

"What relationship is Gawain to you?"

"Cousin."

Harry nodded, and cast his eyes around the group of fallen men, "The penalty for killing a slave is death. If I go to a place, and find the slave quarters empty when I know there should be a slave there, then I will kill."

He raised his wand, and aimed at Robards. There was no flash of green light, no 'Avada Kedavra,' just that the man's head stopped moving, and his frantic objections were silenced. Harry aimed his wand at the one who'd said he intended to kill his slave that night, "Do you intend to kill your slave?"

The man glanced at his former companion, and said, "No Sir. Just tell me what you want me to do with her."

"What's your name?"

The man glanced uneasily at the body again, obviously expecting to be killed himself, but said reluctantly, "Matthias Price."

"Apparation coordinates?"

Once supplied, Harry noted them down, knowing that he hadn't been lied to. He didn't think he had the Price house on his list, and probably not even on the big maps in the basement office.

Abercrombie asked, "Who are you?"

Harry glanced around the room, and there was the snapping sound of breaking wands, and one swore. Harry ignored him, leaving the room, the men still paralysed. He expected it would wear off after a time, and it was Prindi Paralysis, so they could still move their heads. They would not be disturbed. He'd left wards on the room, anyone thinking of entering would 'know' that the men wanted to be left in peace.

He had a sense of urgency after that confrontation, and Trudy had her hands full as he first dumped the Abercombie slaves, three of them, then the one who'd been threatened with death, and several more. He was driven by his worry. How many more were in imminent danger of death?

Harry was again exhausted that night, but twenty-four slaves had been rescued. He said to Sarah, "I killed again. I don't like killing."

Sarah said, "They're wizards. They deserve to be killed. A different species..." But Harry was looking at her, and she went to him, "Sorry, I didn't mean you. And there are good ones. You told me."

He scarcely touched his meal that evening, went to bed early and slept late. He had to hurry. The slaves were in danger. His dreams that night consisted of confused images of himself trying to insist to Muggle police that he had to be taken seriously, and then being punished for having magic. But how could he do it all by himself? He was only one.

***chapter end***


	39. Chapter 39

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 39 **_

The next morning, there was a big article on the front-page of the Daily Prophet:_ 'Midnight Intruder threatens death to anyone who kills their slaves.'_ It went on to state quite explicitly that the homes that had been entered, and the 'goods' stolen, were in fact Muggle slaves. It also stated that the known murders committed by the 'Intruder' had so far been limited to slave-traders and wizards who had mistreated their slaves. It ended with the firm advice that those with slaves in keeping should keep them safe and happy and on no account, hurt them. _'It has so far proven impossible to guard against this unknown wizard.'_

There was a picture, almost certainly an image taken from a pensieve memory, and Augusta said to her grandson, "It _is_ Pilzer. We thought it had to be him."

"He rescued me, rescued all the others, and now he thinks he can rescue every single slave there is?"

"There can't be that many, surely."

"A few have always had them, a lot more have acquired them these last few years."

"Always knew men would mess up everything if allowed free rein."

"Yes, Grandmother."

Molly Weasley dropped in later, but no-one was quite brave enough to mention the matter to her. She had to know now that her lost sons had been dealing in slaves.

Molly knew. It hadn't been as much of a shock as people thought. There had been hints, and in any case, who was she to condemn her sons? She'd tried to sell Harry Potter, and he wasn't even a Muggle, or not really.

_hphphp_

Sarah looked at Harry and said firmly, "You're too tired. You're not doing anything tonight."

Harry looked up at her from where he sat on the edge of the bed, and put the Batman mask back on the cupboard. "You're right. I'll phone Trudy, let her know."

"Have there been any more missing since the warning you gave?"

"No slaves missing. They're expecting me now. They've stopped leaving guards and traps, and there were two houses totally empty. Slaves waiting, still collared, and confused because they'd been supplied with a suitcase and clothing."

"Have you counted the numbers you've saved?"

Harry shook his head, and Sarah said firmly, "You have saved a hundred and twenty-two children and young women, and it hasn't even been a month since Blue. I know it's likely some have been killed, but you are not God. You can't do everything, and you're doing more than anyone would think possible."

Harry gave her a weak smile, "Thank you Sarah." He'd almost finished the original lists that totalled 76 slaves, but he knew now that was not the whole of it. There were foreign slaves as well as English ones, and he didn't have an App. Map for Europe. He needed to buy one, maybe send for one using a different name. He'd done that before, but it was hard to think about ways and means when his mind was so focused on saving those kids, most of whom didn't know they needed saving. He was going any time of the day or night now, and Trudy was doing a lot of the work of re-stocking, cooking and cleaning. Both Sarah and Harry had abandoned their masks in front of her, though no other of the rescued slaves had seen their faces, and even Trudy didn't know their real names.

Sarah said, "Cathy's party on the 8th."

"That's the day after tomorrow, isn't it? I'll do a few tomorrow then, and be rested for the party."

"A pool party. I would have thought it too cold."

"Cathy wants it, and the pool's heated. We had a New Year's Eve pool party once, while I still lived at Kreighley. Jason too, and Vera and James thoroughly nervous that we'd misbehave and embarrass them." He stood up, stretched, and said, "I'm going for a run. And Gary wants to talk to me about the stables."

"Do you want a housekeeper one day?"

"It would be convenient to have a cook, but an inside servant would be problematic."

Sarah offered, "I'll cook tonight if you like."

"You detest cooking!"

"There are frozen meals that just need microwaving. I'm good at those."

_hphphp_

A plump young man sprawled on a couch in the home of Xenophilius Lovegood. He was fully clothed, but there was a collar around his neck. Xenophilius handed him a meal and he sulkily accepted it. Lovegood said nervously, "I'm not allowed to let you out, I've told you that."

"Then I want regular payments from now on. 1,000 a week, or when he comes, I'll go. And I want the collar off."

"Please, Twinkles."

The man growled, "And don't call me _Twinkles."_

"Sorry, Claude. I meant Claude. I'm sorry. _Please_ promise to stay with me."

"Take the collar off."

Lovegood almost wailed, "You'd _leave_ me. I _need_ you."

Claude didn't even look at him, but shrugged indifferently.

"Claude, please. How about if I take it off, will you stay then?"

"I might, I suppose. But I have to be allowed to come and go."

"Soon things will change. You don't want me arrested again, do you?"

"If you buy yourself a house away from wizards, no-one would know whether I wandered free."

Lovegood was silent. Leave the wizarding world? It was an idea. He didn't care about anyone much except for his darling Twinkles. Only Luna, and he had no idea where she was. He asked again, "Would you stay with me then?"

Claude at last transferred his full attention to his 'Master.' "I will stay with you if we live in a normal house, you pay me 1,000 pounds a week into my own bank account, and I'm totally free to come and go." He regarded his master and added, "And you take off the damned collar!"

Weakly, Lovegood took his wand, tapped it to the collar and it fell away. Claude smiled, and it was suddenly apparent that he was a very good-looking young man. Lovegood lifted a hand to him and stroked his cheek. His Twinkles was happy with him. He'd do a lot to have Twinkles happy with him.

Claude's eyes dropped to the book on the table he'd been reading. The master had bought it for him, the only book about a eunuch he'd been able to find. 'Shuki' had made a life for himself even though not a man, and maybe he could too. But maybe it was better to stay with Xeno for the time being. He hadn't been out in the world since he was eleven, and now he was twenty-two. It was a little frightening. He fingered his bare neck, - he'd worn the collar so long.

_hphphp_

Curtis Kent looked small next to his slaves. Even the fourteen-year-old was taller than he was. He was the most recently bought - about a year ago, and from the Weasleys, so he was probably on the Midnight Intruder's list. Then there were Rudy and Garrick, both tall, strapping young men. His slave quarters were equipped with a gymnasium, and as his slaves liked nothing more than to please him, they took care not to miss their daily exercise. He liked to watch them at it, working nude, their muscles bulging, and their bodies shining with sweat.

But now they were in their usual garb, short tunics that exposed muscular legs as well as the titillating sight of a bare bottom if they moved quickly. He enjoyed that, but did allow them to wear neat trousers when he wasn't with them. They were so beautiful. Curtis Kent was only a few years older than Harry, but had enjoyed slaves all his life, starting with a young woman given to him by his father when he was thirteen. He couldn't bear the thought of losing them. There was no greater pleasure in life than penetrating those strong young bodies. It made him feel such a man, puny of build though he was.

He said gravely, "There is a danger that is coming for you. It's a very powerful wizard, so powerful that I cannot protect you. He will make me helpless, make the servants helpless. But you. He won't think Muggles can fight, and he will not make you helpless. He will probably come in the night, but he may come any time. He indicated the weapons he'd brought in, "Clubs. When he comes in, I want you to club him down. Kill him. It will make me happy, it will mean that my favourite boys are safe, and our world will applaud you as heroes. Will you do this for me?"

The eldest asked carefully, "Attack a wizard?" They all knew that under no circumstances should they attack a wizard.

"He wants to take you away, take you all for himself. He is cruel and would hurt you. He has to be stopped, and when a wizard has such great magic, then yes, he has to be killed. Will you do it for me?"

The eldest dropped to his knees in front of his beloved master, followed by the other two. "Of course, Master. We do whatever you want." "Of course," and the youngest said eagerly, "And me. I'll like to stop him."

Kent smiled in satisfaction, "You are such good boys. I love you all."

The youngest said, "I love you best. Will I show you how much?" and his hand went to the wizard's robes.

_hphphp_

Three more slaves rescued uneventfully the following day, and Harry checked over his original lists. Just two from the Weasley list left, and one from the Cuffe list. He knew there were sure to be more, but he had no way of knowing where to look for them other than by entering every wizard home at random.

_hphphp_

Cathy's birthday party. She was thirteen. Vera nudged James, "Look at Lee. He's got fans."

As they watched, he shook his head at a girl, gave her a false smile, and came to their side, walking rather fast, "Can I help you with something?"

"Everything's under control. There's no need to worry yourself."

"I wish Sarah was here. They're ganging up on me."

Vera said tolerantly, "None of them are older than thirteen. They're just practising their flirting skills."

"Then they can practise on Dan or Jase. I'm not up to it."

Vera put a hand to his face, "You're looking tired."

"I'm fine." He was still looking at the girls, all in swimsuits, two in very brief bikinis, and complained, "They could put some clothes on. None of them are swimming."

James laughed, and said, "You? The prude? Jase tells me that you have your first serious girlfriend when you were just thirteen, and invariably had one on the go from then on."

Harry said with some irritation, "Jason didn't even know me at thirteen. He's been listening to stupid rumours."

James raised his eyebrows and glanced at Vera. It was unlike Lee to be irritable. Ross had been concerned that he might be putting himself in danger, and they'd seen so little of him ever since Kevin had died. But there was no point in trying to get anything out of him.

Harry was relieved when the guests were gone, and he smiled on Cathy, "Enjoyed it, Sis?"

Cathy grinned, "You know the thing I enjoyed most? It was seeing you hiding from Lindy and Sue."

Harry asked suspiciously, "Did you put them up to it?" and Cathy giggled.

Vera chided mildly, "Girls can get themselves into trouble being too forward with a man," but Cathy said confidently, "It was only Lee. I knew he wouldn't do anything he shouldn't."

"Lee might not have, but anyone else. And by the way, Lee. James and I would like a talk with you before you go."

Harry looked at them warily, and glanced at his watch. He didn't want to be asked questions and he didn't want to be rude to James and Vera, who'd given him a family.

To his relief, they only spoke of Kevin, gave him a few openings to explain things if he chose to, and then Vera gave him a kiss and said, "Just take care. Whatever you're doing, please take care."

He nodded, and said seriously, "I am taking enormous care. Try not to worry."

"There was a hit man..."

Harry had nearly forgotten about the hit man, but said, "The contract has been dropped, I think. And if I do get killed..." He hesitated, and Vera said, "Lee?"

He finished, "If I do get killed, I have restored several children to their parents. I'm the only one who can do it, so I must. I am taking as few risks as I can, but it's like Kevin. At the last he felt satisfied that he'd helped and it was OK to die. If I get killed, then I will have helped."

Vera hugged him very tight, and said brokenly, "Lee... Think about it. Are you really the only one? Surely there must be a different way, safer."

"Mum... I'm just doing the best I can."

"Does Sarah know?"

"She knows," and James said, "Sarah's a very sensible young woman, Vera love. If she approves, then it's not for us to try and interfere."

Harry kissed them both, gave a final goodbye to Cathy and Mark, and left in his car. He was home twenty minutes later, the car left garaged out of sight. He seldom drove very long when there was no need.

_hphphp_

Six weeks after the takeover of Sudlan, several influential men were with the new headmaster of Beauxbatons. A lot of negotiating had been going on, and now it was time to inspect the goods on offer. Girls of sixteen, seventeen and eighteen, especially the ones who'd fled the prospect of arranged marriages.

A group of girls was gathered around one of the female teachers, several crying. They didn't want to be forcibly Bonded to older men. The Mixed-bloods were not under as much threat, but there were two Muggle-borns, one of whom said, "Think yourself lucky. _We_ might not survive!"

A Pettit girl said spitefully, "No-one cares about Mudbloods."

"We should fight. We have our wands, we should fight!"

"Madame? Should we fight, do you think?"

The teacher looked around helplessly. The girls Bonded into marriage would probably be happy enough, but the Muggle-borns. What would happen to the Muggle-borns?

Lyla Bulstrode suddenly drew her wand, "Well, I'm going to fight." The Muggle-borns followed suit, more slowly followed by the others.

But before they were even fully decided, the door burst open, they were all disarmed, and one by one, they were displayed to the waiting men. By the end of the day, each of the Pure-blood girls was in a Bond-marriage, as well as one of the Mixed-bloods. Winton Zabini hoped that a Mixed-blood might prove more fertile.

The Muggle-borns were profoundly relieved that they were not harmed further than the monitoring wrist-band. The wrist-band was plain brown for the boys, but attractively pink with silver tracing for the girls. Every Beauxbatons Muggle-born could now be tracked. They still had their wands, but each with a limiting spell. They could no longer be used for defence. There was talk that Muggle-borns would be hired as servants. There was a severe shortage of servants.

_hphphp_

Minister Lionel Pettit signed off on a list of witches and wizards who were to be executed. Their arrests had never been publicised, and their deaths would not be made known. Most were Muggle-borns and Mixed-bloods who'd been active in the Resistance, but there were a few Pure-bloods, including Narcissa Black. It was a shame about Narcissa, but she should not have betrayed them. The co-wife, Mary, was also on the list, but he didn't think twice about ordering the death of a Muggle-born.

All in all, things were very satisfactory. With the addition of the former Southern Alliance countries, Britonaum had expanded to more than three times its former size, and with twice the population. With all the young brides, there would soon be a new generation to revitalise their population. No other Minister for Magic had done as much. He didn't even have to worry about re-election until the following year. With the 'Re-organisation,' going on, the Wizemgamot had agreed that the election would be postponed until June 2005.

The takeover had gone so well, amazingly well. There hadn't been many casualties, a few of his Aurors, and quite a lot more of theirs, but so many of the Sudlan wizards had been prepared to listen when he explained the benefits of wizard-only rule.

He didn't spare much thought for the troubles back home. Once his force of Aurors returned, the rogue wizard should be captured easily enough. As far as he knew, his own three slaves were still safe at home, waiting for his return. They'd each been purchased from the Munich slave-trader. He knew Herr Hoppe quite well.

He was to take possession of a new bride that day - Pure-blood and of one of the Vanie families of France. A Melenchon, Patrice Melenchon. The Melenchon family was one of the few who'd fought the takeover. There were no adult male survivors though there was a small boy who'd take over the title once he was grown. It was all very satisfactory. Maybe it was time to announce his triumph at home. So far all there had been were some accusations of aggression from the Sudlan, followed by reports of negotiations resulting in a 'greater cooperation' between Britonaum and the two European Alliances.

_hphphp_

Harry said to Trudy, "You've helped me tremendously." Trudy was now living at 'Homesafe.' Her bed was in the same room as Harry kept the App. Map and lists of slaves, warded against anyone else entering. The other two bedrooms were needed for the freed slaves he brought back.

Trudy said, "You're nearly at an end, aren't you?"

"Just three more on the list, but there are other places to check, so I want you a while yet. Tonight, two girls, mid-teens, and a boy of fourteen. I'll do him first, then the girls, then check a few other places." Draco Malfoy was the first on that list. He might have objected to making Harry a slave, but he was still the sort of person who would use a Muggle for whatever he wanted.

Harry put on the Batman hood, and Trudy grinned and shook her head, "The greatest wizard of them all, and you look like a cartoon character."

Harry put a hand to one of the Batman ears, and said, "I notice you now have Batman comic-books lying around."

"And a Batman movie. Not many are happy to go to bed the minute they're freed."

He disapparated, and Trudy stared at where he'd been before turning again to making up beds. Probably not many tonight. He was such a _good_ man, working himself to exhaustion, night after night. And he had to be so powerful, more powerful than her recent master, or even the original one, who'd been head of one of the foremost Aniragi families. Vonder was like an ordinary person most of the time, except that sometimes when he moved around, it was like a silent jungle cat moving, maybe a leopard, more finely built than a lion. She guessed several weeks of moving around hostile territory might have that effect on a person. She'd never asked what he did to punish the slave-keepers. It was good that she hadn't had the slave-spells for Ludo Bagman. It was too confusing when you'd 'loved' your master. Even now, and years without the spells, she felt some fondness for her first master, Master Reginald. She'd only been twelve when he'd bought her, she should hate him.

Harry silently explored the Kent Mansion, making a dim light to see by. He had to ensure he didn't cast a sleeping spell on any children, and there seemed to be several small children. A nanny was close, and he made sure to cast a lighter sleeping spell on her in case the children needed her. Curtis Kent appeared to be away, and nearly all the other occupants were women. He found the slave quarters quite quickly by feeling for the standard spells on them. He was very good at that now, and also at sensing the feel of a wizard by his magic. His skills had developed. There had been no-one lying in wait, and no traps, though he thought one of the women had caught a glimpse of him as he checked a bedroom.

The slave quarters, and he took down the warding spells before quietly entering. There seemed to be a night-light, and he took a couple of silent steps before suddenly there was a wicked crashing blow across his shoulder. He grunted in pain, but twisted around, doing the first thing he could think of, casting the spell that made slave collars fall off. It didn't make a difference for a moment, as more blows rained down on him, and then one that hit the side of his head, hard, and he stopped moving, stopped thinking.

Rudy suddenly shouted, "Stop," and Garrick hesitated. The youngest one, Blake, was already standing back, trembling. He murmured, "We killed Batman."

"Don't be silly, he's not really Batman."

"Put the light on."

"My collar's gone."

With the light fully on, Rudy carefully removed Harry's Batman hood, and said quietly, "There's an awful lot of blood, but I don't think he's dead."

"Do you remember when you were first taken. If it was like me, it was awful, and then it didn't seem so bad." Garrick was caressing his bare neck, "And then we were sold, and only wanted to please him. I think it was a spell, and Batman took it off when he came in."

"The master. He's not our master any more, is he?"

Garrick quietly went to the door, opened it, and hesitated. He'd never been able to go through that door. Blake suddenly pushed past him, stepped though, and turned, arms high in a triumphant gesture. "He's freed us!"

"What will the master do to him?"

Harry suddenly muttered and tried to move. They stood back, watching, and Rudy said quietly, "He's badly hurt."

"The master wanted him dead."

Garrick said, "Remember what he told us? That it was a very powerful wizard, and would make them all helpless? I think we should go and see, maybe take some money, and then look and see if this one is better, or maybe dead."

"So much blood!"

"Just his head. I don't think anything else is bleeding."

There was quiet then, and Harry stopped fighting the blackness, and lay still.

***chapter end***


	40. Chapter 40

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Harry's adoptive family: Vera and James Chase, brothers Jason, Daniel and Mark, sister Cathy. __British Intelligence__: Stephen Baxter. * 'Whiteoaks' is the name of Potter Manor, 'Homesafe' is the name of the house they use as a base for rescued slaves, and 'The Waystation' is a tiny farm around 20 miles from Traynor. They use this as a convenience when travelling between Traynor and Whiteoaks, which is in Wales. Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.  
_

_**Chapter 40**_

Blake said, "Let me carry him for a bit. I'm strong."

Garrick warned, "He's heavy."

Harry tried to say that he could walk, but none of them took any notice. They each carried a bag of money and goods taken from the Kent Mansion. One had the Batman hood, the inner lining wet and stained, but washed free of most of the blood. Blake said, "I didn't know the master was married."

"He must have been. There were four women and five children."

"They might not have been his."

Blake was already beginning to struggle with the weight, and asked, "What about this one?"

"When we find a phone box, we dial 999. Then we clear out. They'll think we did it."

"Well we did."

"Wasn't our fault."

"He came to help us, and we hit him."

Harry tried to say something, but it came out a mumble, and then Blake shifted his position, and the pain was enough that he allowed the blackness to take him again.

Back at 'Homesafe,' Trudy fretted. He'd been gone two hours. Should she ring Sarah? Sometimes he took a while, when the slaves either fought, or wanted to trash the house, but usually he was quite quick. Two hours. Another half hour passed before she phoned Sarah with the news.

Harry moaned slightly, wishing the voice would just go away, but it went on and on, "What is your name? Tell us your name."

Harry reluctantly opened his eyes, but squinted. It was too bright. The voice again, "What is your name?"

His name? Lee? Ricky? No it was Vonder, wasn't it? Or Werner Pilzer? He wasn't quite sure, but he mustn't say Harry Potter. And he mumbled in answer to the repeated question, "Not Harry Potter."

Luckily, he hadn't been distinct and the nurse asked, "Not-a?" and turned to the others, "Do you know any names started with something like Not-a or maybe Notha?"

"Nathan? Is your name Nathan?"

Harry was vaguely aware that he'd said something stupid, and maybe he'd better not say anything at all, not while his head hurt so very fiercely, and he started to put a hand to his head, and whimpered with the pain. A nurse said firmly, "Hush, don't move. Your scapula is broken."

Another corrected, "Say shoulder-blade, Steph. He won't know scapula."

"Your right shoulder-blade is broken, and I'll just call you Nathan for now. Tell me what your name is when you can."

"Mmmm..." He'd tell her when he could think what name he was supposed to be using. There were too many, and maybe Nathan was good. He couldn't quite remember what he'd been doing. Not a Quidditch injury, that was too long ago. Hockey? Had someone hit him with a hockey stick? And a half memory came to him of several sticks crashing down on him, and he said quite distinctly, "Hockey. I think I was playing hockey."

Things faded off a bit again about then, until a little later when he was firmly being told to keep his head quite still. So Harry lay still. He didn't feel like moving anyway. It hurt to move and he closed his eyes again. He didn't like it, whatever they were doing to him, but it was too hard to ask questions. Better to just do what he was told. Had they been feeding him Ricca potion? But he wasn't a wizard any more. They wouldn't do that to him.

Sarah was extremely worried, and so were James and Vera when she told them. At Vera's suggestion, they started working methodically through phone books, ringing hospitals, and asking if they had a young man named Lee Chase, or maybe an unknown. Sarah wasn't very hopeful. If something had gone wrong, then it was not likely he'd be discovered in an ordinary hospital.

At three in the morning, Vera struck lucky, and her excited tones brought the others, "Yes, long black hair, he's my son, aged twenty-three. His name is Lee, Lee Chase."

Some time later, Harry felt a gentle hand on his forehead, and opened his eyes. His Mum, and he smiled and said it, "Mum."

James said, "I'm here as well, Lee, and Sarah. We found you."

"You found me." He'd been lost and hurt, and his family had found him. He asked, "Where's Sarah?"

"She's with the doctor. She'll be here in a minute."

"I need my glasses. I can't see properly," and he tried to put a hand to his bedside table, where his glasses should be, but he couldn't seem to move it.

Vera told him to stop, and said gently, "You have concussion. That's all. You don't wear glasses any more. And your side is all bandaged for a bit because you broke a bone."

"Can I go home now?"

"Not just yet I'm afraid. They need another brain scan. There were some odd results."

A brain scan? Harry smiled at his Mum and said confidently, "It's only because I'm a wizard. It only looks odd, but it's just different."

"Yes love. We'll take you home as soon as we can." They'd been warned he wasn't making much sense and they were not to worry, that there didn't seem to be any skull fracture or blood clot. Just a severe concussion from a blow to the side of his head, cracked ribs and the broken scapula, plus some severe bruising.

Sarah was listening to the doctor, who was trying to insist that he had to have further tests on his head. She clarified, "But you can tell there's no actual damage, just concussion."

"No bleed, no tumour, just that there are some odd results from the EEG, brain activity where there shouldn't be."

"What can I expect from the concussion?"

"It was a severe concussion, and he's likely to be confused for a bit. Dizzy, sleepy for a few days, not himself for up to a week or even longer. It's likely he won't remember what happened, but it's fairly clear he was attacked, maybe with batons or sticks."

To Sarah's relief, Harry knew her the moment she spoke, and she asked him, "Is it likely they'll be looking for you? You do remember what you were doing, don't you?"

"Was it a retrieval that went wrong?"

"Trudy said you were going after a boy of fourteen, and you didn't come back. You were found near a phone-box at Binley, and now you're in hospital. There were some youths watching, they said, probably the ones who rang for the ambulance."

"Where are we?"

"Coventry."

"Then I'm too close. I should go home."

Vera and James had been listening, and Vera said, "To our place rather than yours? It's less remote in case you need further attention."

"I don't feel too bad any more, just that my head aches, and my shoulder."

Sarah looked at him thoughtfully, and then said, "Go to sleep again if you want, I want to talk to your parents."

"Yes..." and a moment later, quietly, "I can't remember where I am."

Vera sat beside him, "Don't worry about it, love. We're all with you."

"I'm not sick. Can I go home now?"

Vera's voice took on a touch of firmness, "We're looking after you. You just rest and leave it to us."

"Is Sarah here?"

"She's here."

This time, Harry slept while Sarah and James persuaded the doctor that the name of 'Lee Chase' should be forgotten, and the records remain as 'Nathan, unknown male.' There was promised a large donation to the hospital to cover expenses since it would not be possible to claim from the government.

It was an exercise getting him home as comfortably and discreetly as possible, but Harry slept through it. The doctor had been confident that he would recover normally from the concussion, so had ordered quite a large dose of painkiller for the trip.

James and Vera helped him into bed, Harry protesting all the time that he could do it himself. And then after ten minutes, he was struggling to get up, needing to go to the toilet, but indignantly refusing the offer of a bottle. Vera said to her husband, "Just take him, love. It's easier than arguing."

James was relieved to get him to the toilet and back without incident. Not only was he in pain from his injuries, but he was staggery and irritable, symptoms of the concussion.

One more thing before he was content to sleep, he wanted to know where Sarah was. Vera answered him, "She said she had to get a few things from Whiteoaks."

He turned his head restlessly, and then smiled, perfectly normally, "Hello, Cathy."

Cathy was peeping from the door, and said, relieved, "I thought you were sick."

"I'll be fine in a few days. They hit me with hockey sticks, I think."

Vera said, "Cathy, we can do with your help _later_, not now. He can sleep for a bit now, and Dr. Tan is going to visit a bit later."

Harry complained, "No, Mum. I don't want him."

Vera leaned over and kissed his forehead, "Hush. Let us know what's best for a bit. I'm looking after you now."

"Sorry." He was cross with himself. What was the matter with him? He sounded like a six-year-old! He said again, "Sorry, Mum."

"It was a nasty crack on the head. You'll be better in a few days."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He was sore in so many different places, and his head pounded. James asked, "Do you think we should have given him one of those pain tablets?"

"We'd have to sit him up again, and that hurts him more."

Harry shifted again, lying a little on his left side, and said quietly, "It doesn't hurt much. Sorry to be a nuisance."

Vera caressed his forehead, and said tenderly, "You could never be a nuisance." It was unlike him, the irritability and the way he looked to her for comfort, and there was a part of her that thrilled to be his mother. When he'd first looked at her in the hospital, and said 'You found me.' He was a man, and she'd never known him as a dependant small boy, but for that moment, it was like he was her little boy.

_hphphp_

Curtis Kent was thoroughly irritated with the women of his household. Instead of informing him of the burglary, they'd gone shopping. _Shopping!_ The servants had told him. And three male servants had no wands, so would have trouble doing their duties.

His boys were all gone, and he looked for clues as to what had happened. The clubs were neatly placed in a corner, and three slave collars were placed on a table. He'd hoped that his boys would take down the Muggle-loving bastard, but it hadn't happened. His three wonderful boys gone, his house robbed of several of its most precious ornaments, and his bedroom trashed.

The four women of the Kent household were at a restaurant having an early lunch. The wife of Curtis, and three widows. One shook her head, "I've lived there over thirty years, and have never gone near that wing, never seen that door."

"Anti-woman wards, I bet. Just like this whole blasted world has become anti-woman!"

"A blood trail leading through the house. Whether it was the Intruder who was bleeding, or the slaves, there's no clues left for Curtis."

"There were three collars, three!"

They said nothing about finding men's clothing instead of girls' clothing. They didn't want to think about that, especially Curtis's wife. She'd given him a son and two daughters, and he still hoped for more. She didn't like to think of what he might want to do with male slaves, but there was one thing for sure, - he was no longer welcome in her bed.

"I'm glad we cleaned away the blood. If he was injured so badly, he might still be close."

"He left us our wands. Do you think it could actually be a woman?"

"I saw him last night, I think. I thought it was a dream at first. He wasn't very big, so it could be a woman. But it was strange, almost as if he had animal ears going straight up on his head."

"There are spells that can do that. If he's an exile or a fugitive, maybe he hasn't been able to get to a Healer to have it reversed."

Their speculation continued, mixed with laughter. It was very nice to see their Head of House so thoroughly trounced. He'd be furious, but Curtis had never been a violent man, and anyway, they had their wands, each of them customised. Every woman they knew had their wand customised, the only exception being those young girls too much under the influence of a Bond spell.

_hphphp_

The doctor regarded his patient, the long black hair splayed out on the pillow, a small part of it shaved where the skin had been broken by the force of the blow to the head. There had been a couple of stitches, though the split was only shallow. He had his eyes closed, and there was a frown of pain on his face. Vera touched his shoulder gently, "Wake up, love. Joe Tan is here."

The doctor said, "Well Ricky, it looks like you've been in the wars again."

Harry said crossly, "Not _Ricky_. Do you want to get me killed?"

"Sorry, I mean Lee."

Vera rebuked, "Lee, that was rude."

The doctor put up a hand, "He's a Kreighley boy. I'm used to that from Kreighley boys."

"He's not a Kreighley boy any more. Lee, apologise."

Harry smiled, "Just like a Mum. You're right of course. I'm sorry, Joe."

"Let's have a look at that cut," and he pushed the hair, stiff with dried blood, to the side.

Harry turned his head, allowing him to examine. It hurt him when the rest of him was checked, and Vera gasped when she saw the black bruising across his thighs and shoulders. Harry remarked, "The bruise on my behind is going to be the biggest nuisance. I doubt if I can sit at the moment."

"That one scarcely shows," Vera commented.

"Deeper probably," commented the doctor, running a hand lightly over it.

"Feels worst, even worse than my shoulder."

"Well, there's nothing that needs further treatment. Tell someone if you become short of breath, but unless you do something drastic, the ribs will simply heal themselves, and so will the shoulder blade. And Lee, you'll have to wash that hair soon, or you'll be stinking!"

"Will you cut it off for me, Mum? I'm tired of long hair."

It was a rough cut, but with most of the long strands left on the floor, the shampoo was a lot quicker and easier than it would have been. When Sarah arrived not long later, his hair was clean again, and short. She'd never liked the long hair, - it was like he was still a wizard at heart, but now he was just her Lee, looking pale and ill, and sound asleep. She regarded him for a moment, and then went to speak with Vera.

Vera said, "He kept asking where you were. It's why I rang you. He seemed to think you could be in danger."

"Is he still confused then?"

"A little maybe, sometimes. And he says his head hurts, and he can't see properly."

"I had to stop for a sleep. I was too tired to drive."

"Are you going to tell me what he's been up to?"

"I don't know. Has he been taking any pain medication?"

"The last was that injection before the trip home. We've been offering, but he refuses."

"Is he being a good patient?"

Vera grinned ruefully, "One minute he's complaining and arguing, and the next he's apologising. But it's not his fault, just the concussion." And she added, "Joe Tan has seen him, and promises to keep it to himself. He called him Ricky to begin with, but Lee reminded him he had dangerous enemies. He won't forget."

"Reminded him politely, I hope."

Vera laughed, "Not very, but I think he'll feel better now you're here."

"Will I make us coffee?"

_hphphp_

Police detective Assad Khanlari said to his colleague, "We can't ignore this, Mitch. There's been so many missing children returned, we've got the tabloids claiming they were taken by wizards, and now last night's TV Programme."

"It was only _Ronnie's Ramblings_, hardly a serious current affairs show."

"Did you watch it? They had eight young women there, from sixteen to twenty-two, and they all said the same thing. That they'd worn collars, slave garments, and were kept within a certain area by spells. Two of them said there were spells that made them want to please their master, and they all said that the collars could deliver pain when the master said. They were asked about how they were taken, and they appeared to have come from three different sources, five of them from France, two from one place here, actually in London they thought, and one from a place in the country. That might be one worth trying to track down. She said they were red-headed young men, identical twins. There can't be many red-headed identical twins in their twenties."

"How many missing children returned?"

"Fifty-eight, but most refuse to say anything. Some are boys, and they don't want to talk at all."

"Would you? If you were used like that?"

"This is serious, Mitch. There is that directive remember, that if we have anything hinting at wizards or magic, we should send a report."

"Who was it to again?"

"Someone in British Intelligence, I can't remember who."

A few days later, Stephen Baxter glanced at the report, and tossed it on top of the pile. He was to move on, much to his relief. This job was so boring that twice he'd been found asleep at his desk. That had never before happened to him while working.

_hphphp_

Harry agreed when Sarah told him that it was time to tell James and Vera what he was, and what he'd been doing. They could be in danger because of him, and they had to be warned, just in case. His head still ached, and he was in a lot of pain, but had to go another full day before he could risk taking a bone-healing potion. Snape had been quite explicit in his instructions, that any Muggle pain-killer must not be combined with potions.

Sarah kissed him and said, "James is out, so we'll wait until he's back. What we'll do is show them how well the anti-bruising potion works, and then we can start talking about magic."

"Then can you do my behind first, in private? It's time I regained a little modesty."

Once James arrived home a couple of hours later, Sarah started awkwardly, "You know how Lee doesn't say much about his childhood? Or why certain powerful men want him?

James asked immediately, "Are you going to explain?"

"He agreed. He's worried that you could be in danger because of him, and thinks you should know what to watch out for?"

"Do _you_ think we're in danger?"

"I think if Lee had been found by the ones who wanted him dead, then he would be dead. I think he was attacked by the ones he went to rescue. They don't always understand that they need rescuing, you see?"

James and Vera exchanged confused looks, and Sarah said, "I'm going to wake Lee and show you something. He has agreed."

Harry grumbled when Sarah woke him, complaining his head ached, and it was better when he slept. Sarah said patiently, "I'm going to show your parents how the anti-bruising lotion works. We agreed on that, remember?"

Harry was silent a moment, and then apologised, "I keep forgetting things."

"It was a severe concussion. It's only to be expected for a day or two."

"Three youths. They were waiting for me. It was at the home of Curtis Kent. I knew him at school, I never thought he might keep slaves."

"About your age then?"

"Three years above me. I ran into him once, and he spilt his books, but he was nice about it. Some would have hexed me for that."

"At school, Lee?" Vera asked, but Sarah said, "We'll show you something first, Vera. Lee, sit up and turn over."

Carefully and painfully, Harry turned himself over, feeling sick and dizzy again even from that effort, and flinched when Sarah ran a gentle finger over the painful bruising. But then she took out the pot of lotion, coloured an unfortunate bright pink, and started smearing it on the bruising. Vera immediately thought of stained sheets, but bit her lip and said nothing.

Sarah said, "It takes a few minutes. We've been using this a lot in the past weeks. Lee's been hit and kicked and punched. There's another lotion that instantly heals minor scratches, yet another for burns."

Vera raised her eyebrows, and said in an amused tone, "Herbal remedies, Sarah? I would not have thought you so credulous."

"Watch."

Harry was wearing only a pair of brief underpants. James mused that it was no wonder than men wanted him sometimes. He had a beautiful build, - but then he leaned forward and asked, "Sarah?"

The pink lotion was vanishing, and the severe bruising was gone. Harry remarked, "That's feeling a lot better."

"We'll heal the broken bones tomorrow, but the instructions said not to touch head injuries except with the supervision of a qualified Healer. So you'll just have to wait out the headaches and dizziness."

"It's getting better. Can I get up now Sarah?"

"One moment yet."

Vera asked, "What is this ointment. It's magic!"

"That's right. It's magic, literally."

Vera laughed and shook her head, "I never thought you might be a witch, Sarah."

"The lotion won't work on me or you, or anyone else in the family. You have to have magic in you before it will work. I am not a witch, it is Lee who is something called Anirage, a wizard in other words."

Harry interrupted them by sitting up, and remarked, "That's not hurting nearly as much." Carefully he stood up, but swaying, and Sarah grabbed him. He said, "Shower, I think. And then you can tell Mum and Dad as much as you like."

Sarah glanced at Vera and James, both of them looking thoroughly confused. "I'll help him shower, then take him to the lounge-room. He can sit a bit, and I'll explain."

Vera said uncertainly, "Yes," and glanced at her husband, still staring at the young man who called himself his son. A wizard? It had to be nonsense. Yet the bruising was all gone, and for the first time, he didn't seem in pain.

***chapter end***


	41. Chapter 41

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Harry's adoptive family: Vera and James Chase, brothers Jason, Daniel and Mark, sister Cathy, aged 13. * Terms used: A 'Pendreiya' is a binding unconscious instruction. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 41 **_

Vera shook her head when it had finally been explained, and looked again at the chair which he'd moved from its position with a glance, just to demonstrate. It was like he was a stranger, she'd never known him, only thought she had. He was leaning his head back now, his eyes closed, and a frown of pain again. Headache probably, though there were still broken bones. And tomorrow he'd take some sort of a potion, and the bones would mend themselves.

Sarah stood and said, "Bed, Lee? I think that's enough for now."

Harry looked at Vera and James, and said, "Sorry. If you want me gone... But I need to be here for a couple of weeks in case they come here."

James asked, "Do you think they will?"

"I don't think so, but in case. I can't have you in danger, you see."

Vera said softly, "You're a wizard, and you're rescuing slaves who are ordinary children taken by wizards."

Harry stood up, swaying slightly until James grabbed his arm, steadying him. "I'm sorry, Vera. I understand if you don't want me any more."

He was looking at her anxiously, but Vera was frozen. A wizard, not her son. A wizard. Someone who could work magic. Someone who'd fought with spells. Sarah hadn't told her much, only that the Aniragi world was a lot more violent, a lot less civilised, and she remembered something that Lee had said long ago when he was still called Ricky, - that he was not a good boy. How severe had those fights been then? He couldn't have killed anyone, - could he?

Harry was feeling ill. He should have thought of this, that he'd lose his family. But he had to look after them. As soon as he was well enough to apparate, he could probably find out if anyone knew where he was, but right now, it was vital he be here in case they came for him.

James said gently, "Come on, son. Rest a while now."

Harry stumbled a little as he returned to the bedroom, and Sarah hurried after him to help where needed.

James returned to the room, and went straight to where Vera stood rigid, and hugged her. He didn't know what to think, only that the one he'd regarded as his eldest son had powers that he would never have. How could he act as a father to a powerful wizard who could probably drop him with a glance?

Two hours later, Cathy arrived back from school, earlier than expected, and demanding, "Is he better? Can I take him a tray with coffee and biscuits? You said I could help."

Vera looked up, feeling guilty. She hadn't checked on him, and Sarah had taken the car and gone on an errand, something to do with the safe house they'd organised, she'd said. And what was her Lee thinking, that he wasn't wanted any more? She nodded, but said, "I'll just make sure he's awake."

"I can fix up a tray, just maybe not pour the coffee yet."

Vera could tell that Lee wasn't asleep, but he had his eyes shut, just lying there, and again there was that frown of pain. She said quietly, "Lee, it's your Mum. Are you up to a visit by Cathy?"

Harry looked up, hopeful, "Is it all right?"

Vera dropped a kiss on his forehead, and said quietly, "So you're a wizard, probably a fighter, maybe even you've killed enemies. But you're my son, and no matter what, you stay my son."

Harry smiled gratefully at her, and thought that already his head ached less fiercely. Maybe in a few days it would be gone, and he'd be safe to visit the Kent manor, and maybe find out what they knew.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting in the lounge-room again, a tray of goodies on a plate in front of him, and coffee in hand, while Cathy chattered about Mr. Payne who really was a right pain, and did he ever understand Circle Problems like in arcs and tangents, and that she thought Chris McKenna was cute, except that he was a teacher, and it was really silly to have a crush on a teacher. And then Mark arrived and straightaway asked if he wanted the chocolate biscuits because they were his favourite and Mum hardly ever let him have any.

It was so good to be part of a family.

_hphphp_

Dinner time at Hogwarts. Ten years before, there had been Professor Dumbledore in the centre of the staff table, next to him the senior professors, McGonnagal, Snape, and Flitwick. They were all gone now, either dead or in hiding. Horace Slughorn presided over a table nearly all of whom were male. At one end, the three remaining female professors sat, including Professor Trelawney, who looked sober and alert. Firm news of the end of the Sudlan had been released that morning, front page of the Daily Telegraph. According to Minister Pettit, the changes were all a result of peaceful negotiation. _'Having consistent laws and an equal firmness in the treatment of risky behaviour is vital to the safety of us all,'_ and _'The reorganisation of boundaries was carried by a vote. There were no dissenters.'_

There was a buzz of conversation at the student tables, one long table with female students, and separated from them, two tables of male students. Their topics of conversation were very different, - most of the boys were crowing about the victory and speculating about the fighting while the girls' bitter talk was more to do with their best avenue of escape being cut off. The other option was to go Muggle, but that was dangerous. Those who did usually wound up either dead or in institutions with their minds destroyed. That was what Professor Banning told them, and they trusted her. Several had a strong suspicion she was helping girls escape forced marriages, and three nights before, she had helped each female student customise their wands.

Suddenly there was a clumsy fumbling, and Professor Trelawney rose to her feet. The hall quieted, staring at the Seer. Slughorn said uneasily, "Now, now, Sybil." But her voice rang out, strident, slightly hoarse, quite unlike her usual voice,

_The dragon's fire comes, flaming and raw, nothing will stand in its way._

_The end of our world, the end of our law, the end._

_The foolish ones will kill his friend, the Knight,_

_The friend who is family, his friend, the Knight,_

_His anger is cold, the flames are hot,_

_But now it comes, the Night._

_Night for Anirage, Night._

She paused, looking slowly around the Great Hall of Hogwarts before focusing on the girls' table. "Hide your wands, they are not for wizards. It is Ania who will take magic into the future."

She was the centre of attention, and when she came to herself, she went beet-red and fumbled her glass of water, spilling it over her neighbour's lap. Professor Vector said automatically, "There, there dear. Just relax and forget about it. You gave us good advice, I'm sure."

Professor Banning said, "Witch Weekly has been advising people to learn to do without magic. Ever since Julian Tulloch nearly starved to death because he couldn't escape his home without a wand."

"It would have served him right to starve," said Professor Vector in a hard voice.

At the student table, a first year asked, "What is Ania?"

Her friend answered her, "Us, of course. It's the proper name for witches. Anirage, Ani and Ania, wizards and witches," and another said, "It was the first lesson we had this year. I would have thought you'd remember that."

"Mum said there used to be different lessons when she was here, and the girls and boys were treated equally. And girl prefects could order round the boys as well as the girls."

"Ania, us, will take magic into the future."

"I don't know how," said another. "I can barely do the _Wingardium Leviosa_ with this useless wand."

"I've learned how, finally. I'm not very good at it yet."

"How? Will you show us?"

That evening, the first year girls gathered around the one who'd learned to bypass her wand, and instead to access her magic directly, usually disparagingly called 'Accidental Magic' that small children had. She'd not yet realised just exactly what she was doing, and was unable to teach it, at least not that night. Three days later, another managed the feat, then looked at her wand, put it down, and did it again. It would take a while before any of them told the older girls.

_hphphp_

Sarah sighed as she started out on the long drive to Whiteoaks, nearly four hours each way. It was so much quicker when Lee could simply apparate with her. It was a nice car, comfortable, and she'd avoided the weekend, but the A39 was always busy. Maybe she should work at getting a pilot's license. They could afford to make a runway and buy a little Cessna or something. Or a helicopter? But they were supposed to be much more difficult to fly.

She had different things to consider when she checked the wizard newspapers. Both the Northern Alliance paper and the Daily Prophet showed the same map of the new boundaries, and when she went to the official newspaper of the former Sudlan, there was talk of Changes that were being brought in 'for the greater good.' Lee had commented before that the Sudlan newspapers had seemed a bit different in tone these last few weeks, and now she knew why. She hadn't meant to take the wizard newspapers back to the Chase home, but Lee would want to see these. Probably he could put on some sort of a repelling charm so if anyone did happen to see them, they wouldn't look too closely.

The following day, Harry studied the papers, and at last remarked, "I guess a lot of young women will be forcibly returned then. It's bad news."

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

"Ania have as much power as Ani. It seems to me that it's their fight, not mine," and he lay the newspaper down.

"How's your head?"

"Still getting dizzy. I fell last night, right in front of Cathy so that was a bit embarrassing. Jason and Dan were there as well."

"You're still not telling them anything?"

"Better not to, and Vera and James agree."

"I found nothing about knowing where you might be, not even that you were at Kent Manor."

"They've attributed two murders to me, did you notice? I think the women _are _starting to fight back."

"I know you've killed some..."

"Not many though. A few who'd abused their slaves, or killed them. I didn't kill those two."

Sarah picked up the paper, "Tobias Bagman and Theodore Nott."

"I don't even know Bagman, but Nott was always a nasty type."

Sarah started folding up the papers, and Harry suddenly said in an annoyed tone, "I can't even read without my head hurting. It should have been better by now."

"A week, and the doctor said maybe up to two weeks."

Harry yawned, and shook his head, still cross with himself. He'd never been one for daytime sleeps, but he was tired again. Quietly, Sarah turned down his bed for him, and knelt to undo his shoelaces. Leaning down was apt to turn him dizzy, but he didn't like asking for help.

It took all of a fortnight before Harry felt himself safe to apparate, and now he stood quietly in the dining room of the Kent Manor listening to four women discussing the takeover of Sudlan. "They say lots of women have had their wands taken, and Mudbloods are being Bonded into servitude."

"I suppose it's better than just killing them. Molly Weasley told me there's none left here."

"The schools are being brought into line, all three major schools. A different system of terms, and no more celebration of Christmas. I always thought that so dreadfully _Muggle!"_

"The Winter Solstice celebration, as it should be. And there are some old traditions to be revived. I'd approve of that if only we women were given proper respect. Many of the oldest traditions revere women, but that's being ignored."

"Did you hear the Intruder's been active again? In the last few nights, he's killed three wizards."

"Yes, but one of those was Charlotte Nott's husband. She hated him. I wouldn't be surprised..."

The others were horrified, "She wouldn't..."

"Why not? She'll be a lot happier now, and it's not as if Theo was ever very nice to her."

"I wonder about those others then."

The gossip continued, laughter and some mockery of the absent Curtis. There was no more mention of the Intruder, and no helpful hints as to whether he was pursued.

Keeping his 'Don't Notice Me' spell as strong as he could, Harry wandered the mansion, finding the slave quarters clean and empty. He visited the Malfoy Mansion next. If anyone knew what was happening, it would be Draco. But all he found was a woman trying to teach arithmetic to four small boys. There were slave quarters here, still with the anti-female wards on them, but there was no sign that they'd been used for years.

Another visit, the large Vanden home, but while he learned a lot more about the takeover of the Sudlan, he found no group obligingly discussing the possible whereabouts of the Midnight Intruder. There were two more slaves on his original list, and so he shrugged his shoulders and went to the home of Farquhar Greaves, who'd bought a sixteen-year-old girl three months before. She was beautiful, but so were they all beautiful, and Harry scarcely noticed it. This one was quick to realise that she had been used, and glared at the door of her prison. Harry cautioned, "It's the middle of the day, a bad time to go thump him."

"I had a boyfriend. What will he think of me?"

"Don't tell him. Just make up a story." Harry had occasionally been thrashed for lying when he was little, but he was thrashed whether he lied or not, and sometimes he'd managed to avoid a thrashing by lying. For him, honesty had seldom been the best policy.

"I'll have to tell my parents."

"Preferably not about wizards. It will only make you appear crazy."

"I guess."

The next visit was as easy, though there were two girls rather than one. Only three, so he took them home the same day, then returned to 'Homesafe' and wearily peeled off the 'Vonder' mask. At least his skin seemed to be becoming accustomed, and Sarah had provided him with a new Batman costume, higher quality than the last, leather and lycra. It had padding, especially around the chest to simulate bulging muscles, but would also function as some protection against physical attacks. There were even leggings, protection against kicks, and the new Batman hood was more padded than the last one. He wouldn't have survived that blow to the head without the old hood, and this one was better.

He needed a different 'Vonder' mask as well, maybe two or three different faces. The original one seemed to be getting thinner in places, and besides, wizards knew that face.

He'd completed the original lists from the two slave-shops, and he had no further excuse for not talking to Paul. He didn't know that it would be better for him to know, only that he didn't have the right not to tell him. He was surprised now that he'd never felt the difference. He'd thought that he could infallibly tell wizard from Muggle, but even now that he knew, it was like Paul's magic was muted, disguised. He'd only seen him twice since Kevin had died. He felt guilty that he hadn't been around more for the others. He was not the only one who'd been affected by the death of one of their own. Chris had gone on to another job, but Aaron was still there, he thought, and his brothers had to be feeling a bit lost. The younger ones - some would never have known anyone who died, especially one hardly any older than themselves.

He'd go the following day. He guessed he should really have told him weeks before.

***chapter end***


	42. Chapter 42

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Kreighley: Staff: Ross Davies, his wife, Helen. Paul, who was once the 'Cupboard Kid,' identified by the Weasleys as a wizard. Telly, unofficial leader of the boys. * Harry defeated Voldemort on the occasion of what had come to be known as Cerlikh. At that time, he acquired Voldemort's power, and a lot of Voldemort's memories and knowledge. Over 300 Death Eaters died, and the Dementors vanished. * An Aniragia is a wizarding area. The area centred on Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and Albuston are all Aniragias. _

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 42**_

It was late November, a cold, windy Saturday. Ross hailed Harry as soon as he appeared, and took him straight to the rooms that had housed the three Stern brothers, and still housed Warren Stern. "Wheelchair, lifting machine, various other equipment. I was wondering what to do with it."

Harry looked around uncertainly, "Kevin didn't say in his will?"

"Left to the home. He didn't have much."

"Larry sent me his model ship. He said he wanted me to have it." Kevin had assembled it himself from a kit, years before. There were imperfections, as even then, his hands had been losing fine control. It was on a mantel piece at Whiteoaks now, displacing a fine antique clock.

Harry asked, "Isn't there some sort of Muscular Dystrophy Foundation? The computer and keyboard are especially adapted."

"I'll ask Adam to look into it."

"It's only upkeep and staffing now for all those Hydrotherapy Pools the Tom Foundation paid for. No-one like Kevin need be without whatever they need. Maybe the Tom Foundation should expand."

"What about you? Surely your ancestors would object to you giving away their money. "

Harry shrugged and said he had plenty. He remembered Snape telling him that Gerion Potter had objected to slavery, but there was that area in their basement with the external steps leading up to a walled garden. It was typical of the slave quarters he'd seen in other wizard homes. He wasn't about to worry what his ancestors had thought. Instead he asked where Paul was.

A few minutes later, he and Ross were walking along the cliff path, straight into the strong, bitter wind. His eyes were tearing, and he remarked, "I think it's the first time I've missed my old glasses."

"Paul's found his confidence these last few weeks, but why he wants to walk in this weather..."

"He hasn't challenged Telly, has he?"

"I've seen them together, but there's been no challenge, and there's not been any sniping at each other."

Harry grinned, "I guess you know the signs."

"You and Nick. We knew that was coming."

"Watching?"

"Of course, though we missed you and Ian when he had a go."

Harry shrugged, a little embarrassed. He'd always thought the fighting among Kreighley boys a bit foolish, but it was the way of it, and he'd never wanted them influenced by someone like Horst. That had been his first serious fight. He'd been sixteen. Horst had been a very bad influence on the younger boys, but he'd cleared out soon after that.

Ross raised his arm and pointed, "Is that him?"

Harry shielded his eyes, "Who's with him?"

"Whoever he is, he has long hair..." but Ross trailed off as Harry took off at a run.

Harry called urgently, "Paul!"

Paul took no notice, but the stranger turned to him, staring in blank amazement, and then aimed his wand. Harry sent a thought, and Conroy Landen, Hit-wizard of the Ministry of Magic, dropped.

Harry arrived at his side, staring down at him. Ross panted up to him, "What happened?"

They were on a high point, the wind stronger and more bitter than ever. Paul Knight stepped back a pace, walked quickly to the edge of the cliff, and jumped out as far as he could. It was what he'd been told to do. Harry looked around too late, ran to the edge, nearly falling off himself, and looked down at the crumpled body on the stones below, cold water swirling around. He glanced back at Ross, and said in an emotionless voice, "I think he's dead. I'm going down to check, then I'll deal with this bastard. Don't call anyone yet."

Ross shook his head, staring at the one lying on the ground. The wizard's face showed his fury, and he was swearing, some of the words quite unfamiliar, but the tone was obvious. Tentatively, Ross walked to the cliff edge, seeing Lee by the side of Paul, touching his cheek, and then Paul's body simply lifted and moved to a higher place, a few feet above the surging waves. Then Lee was beside him again, and Ross looked at him, dazed and disbelieving.

Harry said very clearly, "Listen to me, Ross. Listen closely. Paul has been murdered by a wizard, this wizard. He will have justice, and the ones who ordered this outrage will see justice. This man, - it will appear I'm letting him go, but it's only because I don't want more coming here. He will go back thinking he's done his job, and then I will tear down the whole organisation of blasted wizards. No more will they prey on us." And he walked to the fallen wizard, "What were your orders?" There was a compulsion in his words, and he quickly ascertained that Paul Knight had been identified as a Muggle-born wizard several weeks before, and that standard orders were to kill Muggle-born wizards. Not only Muggle-born wizards, but their families, any Muggle who knew about magic, and incidentally, Harry Potter.

Harry looked back at Ross, who said quietly, still not quite comprehending, "He just jumped off the cliff."

"Wizards have a spell. Paul was _ordered_ to jump off the cliff. It was no accident, not suicide, it was murder. And they _will_ pay."

Ross's gaze cleared a trifle, "That on TV. They said they were slaves, and it was wizards held them captive."

"That's right. But now listen. I'll deal with Landen here, and you have to organise someone to retrieve Paul's body. You have to say it was an accident. You _must not_ say anything about wizards, and you _must not_ tell anyone that I'm a wizard."

"You're a wizard."

Harry said patiently, "You always wanted to know the big mystery about me. That is it. I'm a wizard." He indicated the man still lying on the ground, silent now, but listening carefully, "This is Conrad Landen. At one stage, he was one of the guards stopping me leaving." His glance dropped to the man, and he exerted his magic, "You will forget seeing me. You will forget there were any witnesses. You will only remember that your target jumped off the cliff and was killed. You will know that your job was done." A Pendreiya now, "You will be unable to kill anyone ever again. You will be unable to harm any Muggle ever again in any way."

He regarded the man for a moment more, and then nodded, "Go." The man scrambled to his feet, shook his head, and then disapparated.

Harry remarked, "He shouldn't really apparate when he's confused, but if he gets himself splinched, I don't really care."

"Paul's dead, and you're a wizard."

"Ross, the tide's coming in. You have to deal with it. I'm leaving now. Do you know what you have to do?"

"Paul's death was an accident. It was very windy. I saw him fall, and nothing else."

Harry nodded grimly, "The bastards won't know what hit them."

There was a very deep anger burning within him, but his actions were cold and deliberate when he collected his car, drove it to the 'Way-station,' and then apparated home.

Sarah thought he was like a stranger as he explained what had happened, meantime methodically putting on his Werner Pilzer/Vonder disguise. This must be what he was like when he went into action. She knew his fury, and yet nothing about him was uncontrolled. His step as he moved about was almost silent, and there was something about him that was like a coiled spring. She wanted to ask if he would be safe, but instead just listened as he explained that this was it, this was enough, that he was going to take down the whole of Wizardkind. That if he had anything to do with it, they would never raise a finger to Mugglekind again.

And then he was gone. Sarah slumped into a chair wondering if she should have stopped him. Yet his plan didn't seem to be some quick thrown-together thing, but as if it had been quietly brewing for months, maybe years. But it was so dangerous. He was throwing himself into the lion's den, in the middle of the day, relying only on his pure power to protect himself.

Harry's Cloaking Magic was very strong and precise, almost as effective as invisibility. Someone might see him if they tripped over him, but not otherwise. His step was silent, his movement almost gliding, no motion wasted. The weeks of creeping about wizard manors had left their mark. No-one saw him as he explored the Ministry building. His knowledge of it was from Voldemort, but Voldemort hadn't been there since before Harry was born. There was not much changed, except that the deeper levels of courtrooms looked as if they'd been long abandoned. He came to the room where the Wizemgamot met - heavy antique furniture, plush luxury, thick tapestries hanging over stone walls. Quite warm, so there had to be temperature control spells. Gerion Potter had been a member of the Wizemgamot, Harry's grandfather. If things had been different, Harry Potter might have been Van Potter, and a member of the Wizemgamot. As it was, he had every intention of destroying everything that had hurt him, and hurt the ones he cared for.

He descended further into the lowest bowels of the building that was mostly underground. A cleaner looked around, yawned, and decided to go outside for a bit. He was the only one there. Harry limited the spell to what he wanted, and started the fire. It would burn slowly, but very thoroughly. More knowledge from Voldemort.

Next floor, empty, another fire. There were a few moving around on the next floor. Like the cleaner, they decided to leave. It was a Saturday, so there should not be too many present. Wizardkind had not yet abandoned the Muggle convention of a weekend.

The Hall of Prophecies, and he came across one elderly woman sitting at a desk looking worried, sheets of paper in front of her. Harry told her to leave, but silently in her mind, as he had the other ones he'd met. The woman looked up, almost directly at him, and methodically packed several pieces of paper and a few scrolls in her bag before complying. Harry waited. He might kill Landen if he found him, but had no plans to kill anyone else.

There were about fifteen in the Auror section, more than Harry had expected. One stood up. "It's no good. I'm going home." A second, "Me too." Within minutes the floor was cleared. Harry noted the pictures around the walls, his own prominent, the picture of Werner Pilzer also prominent, labelled 'Midnight Intruder.' None of them were moving pictures. The fire was started and he moved on.

When he came to the Atrium, he blocked the floos and cast an anti-apparation spell so that nobody could enter, then stood for a moment regarding the centrepiece, the golden statue of a wizard, magical creatures around looking subservient, the woman also, clearly in a lesser position. He melted the wizard, and left the rest. If the wizards could stop the fires in time, they could have the statue as a monument to a destroyed culture. They'd killed Paul. They'd attacked Blue, and if they had the chance, would kill himself and all his family. They would not have the chance.

He disapparated, reappearing just outside, and a few people jumped, but then he was Cloaked again, and they looked back at the centre of their government, wisps of smoke beginning to appear. At a different entrance, in a smelly alleyway, a phone box exploded into flame.

A casual final glance at the Ministry building, and Harry turned away. It was only the beginning.

Harry had three shops of Diagon Alley in flames before a witch pointed to him and yelled, "He's there! The Intruder! Aurors! Aurors!" He was marked now, visible. Instead of disapparating, Harry merely shielded himself, a visible shield that appeared like flames.

There was the wandshop that had been Ollivanders for hundreds of years. It was now run by a Ministry official who scrambled out in a panic before the small two-storied place roared into flames, destroying the imported wands and those remaining toys for 'Little Witches.' The ice-cream shop, but Harry had fond memories of Florean Fortescues, and left it alone, the Petshop likewise, but the deserted bank was destroyed, a bookshop, and then he paused at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. He'd given Fred and George ten thousand galleons to start that shop, and now he was taking it back. He watched that fire for a few minutes, only making the shielding flames a bit higher and more fierce when three Aurors attacked him, and then they found their wands broken in their hands. A woman whispered, 'It's the dragon.' The Aurors just watched then, swearing, feeling themselves helpless, and not one of them thinking of attacking with sticks or stones which would probably have gone straight through the shielding flames.

Still he hadn't harmed any person, but he glanced around at the crowd, and more wands broke, and men and women were sterilised. There would be no more wizards born to prey on innocent people. They had killed Paul.

He walked on, and a stout woman stood in front of her jewellery shop, arms wide-spread, "I've done nothing to you! Leave my shop alone!"

Harry passed it by, and then hesitated at the office of the Daily Prophet. Its news was poor, but it was his only source of news aside from anything he managed to overhear. He singed the doorway, terrifying a few people trapped inside. But then he went on and more shops were destroyed, most of Diagon Alley, most of Nocturne Alley, but left the few little adjoining alleys with their tiny homes. Anirage had no Social Security, and the tiny rundown houses were occupied by the very poor. Many were empty. Hags, were-wolves, vampires, half-breeds of any description - they'd all been eliminated. There had been no place for creatures such as these under Pettit's rule.

Finally he turned, surveying the crowds that watched, not too close. Someone called, "Are you the dragon?"

The dragon? He brandished the wand he carried for effect, and the flames rose higher and took the rough shape of a dragon. From further down the street, there were explosions, and fireworks zoomed past. The Muggles couldn't miss this, a fireworks display and billowing smoke issuing from the heart of London. Even now, he could hear fire sirens not very far away. Well why not? He raised a hand and pulled at the wards, turning himself slowly around in a circle. The complex wards that had protected the Aniragia from the eyes of Muggles, dropped. He said, quite quietly, but everyone heard him as if he was next to them, 'The Muggles are coming here now. Leave."

The stout woman who'd put herself in front of her shop actually stamped her foot, "Dammed if I'm leaving!"

He glanced at her, and then he was gone. The roaring of fires all around, remained.

***chapter end***


	43. Chapter 43

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Kreighley: Staff: Ross Davies, manager, Adam, his assistant. Paul, once the 'Cupboard Kid,' killed as a Muggle-born wizard. Telly, unofficial leader of the boys. Luke, John and Blue. Jack and Tom, the 'blackbirds.'_

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 43: **_

Sarah sat in front of the large modern TV, mouth open, watching the 'Breaking news.' There were photographs of billowing smoke, warnings for asthmatics to stay inside, and confusion as fire engines and police tried to find the source of the blaze and each time, went in the wrong direction whenever they came close.

Harry said quietly, "I dropped the wards. They'll find it soon."

Sarah spun around, squealing, raced to him and hugged. He hugged her back, and said, "I'm safe. And I don't think there'll be any more like Paul."

Sarah blushed. She'd never been a squealer, but she'd been so worried, and she reached and stroked his face, again showing the pimples of irritation from wearing the mask too long. She said, "You're not going out again tonight, I hope."

"I haven't decided yet," and he dropped onto the couch, extending a hand in an invitation to join him. Except for a brief interruption to thaw a frozen pizza, they watched the TV for hours. Scheduled programming had been abandoned, though it seemed there was time for the usual ad breaks. At one stage, a Muggle reporter attempted to interview a woman in traditional witch's hat and clothing, who declared, "Of course I'm a witch. Surely you can see that. And what the Aurors were doing instead of protecting us, I can't imagine!"

"Do you have a wand? Escaped slaves said that wizards had wands."

The woman sniffed in a disdainful way, and vanished into her shop. The camera man scanned over the small windows which showed some very beautiful ornaments of jewellery. There was a sudden laugh from off camera, and the comment, "I wonder if they know about tax!"

There was a new explosion in the distance, and the reporter and cameraman hurried to where a fire-engine blocked the whole alley, and sprayed water onto a new fire that seemed to be flaring.

All over Britain, and increasingly, all around the world, people were watching, the news that wizards were real, that the rumours of freed slaves were true after all, and not a hoax, and more than one checked that it was really the 27th November, and not April Fools Day.

At Kreighley, boys were also glued to the TV, especially Blue, who was wondering whether to tell them anything about 'That Day.' It was how he thought about it, 'That Day.' He'd been so frightened, and they'd all fought for him, not just that one who'd rescued him. He didn't think he'd ever forget how that one looked, his totally calm expression, and the blazing fury he could sense underneath. And Paul. Paul had known about wizards. He and Paul and Kevin, and now Kevin was dead and Paul was dead. They'd not long taken him away.

Telly suddenly, angrily, threw something at the TV, luckily not breaking it, "Paul's dead, and all you mongrels can think about is fucking wizards."

Luke said reasonably, "We're all upset about him, Telly. But this is news that'll change the world," and Blue said, almost whispering, "I could have been a fuck-toy for one of them_. I_ think it's important."

John squeezed his arm, "You aren't though," and Blue raised his voice, "All the ones there fought with them, John and Dallas and especially Paul. He gave one a blood nose, and Abby nearly tore the arm off one."

Several turned to stare at him then, and Abby, asleep on the floor close to John. Staffy asked, "Did I fight?" and someone laughed, "You _always_ fight, Staffy!"

"Travis was the first to try and stop them, and then everyone else. And Mr. Connelly just standing there with a stupid look on his face. They had him under a spell, I think."

Telly took a deep breath, 'So exactly what happened, and how come you remember and no-one else does?" And Blue started to talk, the others interspersing eager questions. A day before, he would have been mocked.

Helen Davies was also glued to the TV, and Ross had to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention. He trusted her implicitly, and he had to tell someone. "You remember all the mystery about Ricky Drayton? Lee Chase as he is now?"

Helen turned to him, "He was one of the slaves of wizards?"

"He is a wizard. He overpowered the one who killed Paul, using magic, and he made him tell him things, and then he vanished. He said they'd pay." He indicated the TV, "I think they paid."

_hphphp_

Harry rose and stretched. It was midnight, and they called him the Midnight Intruder. They'd discussed it, he and Sarah, and now he was going to Europe. Two more wandshops were to be destroyed that night. And straight after Paul's funeral, they would set up another 'Homesafe,' only this time in Germany. The Nadlan slaves were to be freed. With any luck, they would find an older one as sensible as Trudy, and use her to look after them. They tended to be so confused at first, especially those who'd had the slave spells.

It didn't take long, an apparation to Germany, a check for occupants, and the Nadlan wandshop went up in flames, soaring sparks now and then as wands discharged their magic. Then the Toulousaine wandshop of the Sudlan. He watched for a while, a slim figure wearing black Muggle clothing, a balaclava, and shielded with Cloaking Magic. He didn't let down his guard. Even now, if someone just had the wit to look for him, knowing he was there, they could see past the Charm, and stun him before he realised he was seen. He didn't pull down the anti-Muggle wards, and smiled as wizards sent streams of water from their wands, pathetically ineffective compared to the fire-engines of Muggles.

Would his own country have become so bad under a different Minister for Magic? It had always been like this in the Nadlan, but under Amelia and even Fudge before her, Britain had been more reasonable. Maybe some credit was owed Dumbledore after all. It was under his guidance that there had been that insistence that Muggles and Muggle-borns be well treated. Of course, many of those Muggle-borns had been his own illegitimate sons and daughters. That aspect made him appear rather less noble.

So should he kill Minister Pettit? It was his government that had decided that Muggle-borns had no place in Wizard society. He was complicit in the murder of Paul, and Harry felt a new surge of that cold anger. And the takeover of Sudlan, the remaining bastion of reasonable civilisation, - that could not have been without deaths. But even Sudlan... There had been slaves here until a few years back, and probably were again. There was no point in half-measures, and he glanced around, sterilising men and women, not breaking wands, but rendering them useless. They wouldn't know until they tried to use them again. Only the wands of the wizards fighting the roaring fire of the wand-shop were left.

Next stop, Lionel Pettit's home. He knew that Pettit was back in Britain. There had been his face smiling benignly from the front page as he spoke about the expansion of Britonaum. It was nearly 2.00 am, but it was not likely he'd be at home, not when he had to somehow cope with the complications of the falling of Diagon Alley.

Pettit _was_ home; he found him sitting in a chair, head in hands. A young woman sat close beside him, stroking his forehead, and telling him that things would be all right, that maybe they could simply leave and live happily somewhere else. An older woman said sharply, "Not with me, you're not!"

Harry jumped, he hadn't even seen her there. Maybe he was getting too tired, silly to get caught now. The older woman looked at him, nodded slightly, and turned away, "I'm going to bed. Do what you want to do," and her glance took in the Intruder.

Harry turned his gaze to Pettit, who yawned and leaned his head back on the couch. A few minutes later, he was deeply asleep. The girl sighed, a melancholy sigh, and then yelped as she saw Harry. Harry asked, "Are you his daughter?"

The girl shook her head, and then raised it proudly, "I am Patrice, his wife." Her accent was French, and Harry suddenly remembered the announcement. A Melenchon, one of the Great Houses of the Sudlan.

"A Bond marriage?"

"A strong Bond marriage. If you kill him, I will also die."

"If I kill you, will he die?"

"It does not work that way."

"So a one-sided Bond. Effective slavery."

Patrice regarded him steadily, and then nodded, "Effective slavery, but what can I do? It cannot be undone."

"Can you add a Bond, get someone to make additional spells, so that he is as much slave to you as you are to him?"

Patrice jumped up, "Can you do that for us? He'll be happier too, I know it. He's a noble man..." but then she shook her head, "No, that's wrong. That's the Bond speaking."

Harry said regretfully, "I know nothing of Bond spells. But try talking to other women. Someone must know. There used to be some very clever women working in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry turned his head at a sound from the other room, and then disapparated.

Patrice was staring after him, but then pulled her wand, and used it to lift a table. "It still works," she remarked to the senior wife.

"Does Lionel's?"

"I don't know." But when they pulled it from his wand-pocket, they found it was broken, and Patrice said, "I hope he doesn't think it was us."

It wasn't until breakfast the following morning that Harry realised he'd forgotten to check for slaves at the Pettit place. By that time, Pettit had discovered his wand broken, but Patrice had handed him hers. He needed it, and she was under a Bond. She had to do her best to make him happy.

When Patrice asked the senior wife, Zondra, whether she knew any particularly knowledgeable woman who might know how to add a Bond spell to the marriage, Zondra said firmly that it would undoubtedly make him happier, but it should be a surprise, only after the Bond was done. Patrice agreed that it should be a surprise. She'd been telling herself that ever since the Intruder had put it into her head, - a surprise to make him happy.

"Thalia Lovegood. She's very clever. I wonder if she would be able to do it."

_hphphp_

A few days later, Harry watched as Paul's coffin was lowered into the grave at Traynor cemetery. Sarah stood beside him, and next to them, Vera and James, Dan and Jason. They'd all known Paul. Vera had hoped to have him as a son once, but he'd never trusted enough. Kreighley had been his home for just six years, and then he was dead, murdered, though it was called an accident. The small boy who'd been chained to a cupboard in a basement, starved and beaten, the 'Cupboard Kid.' Paul's brothers and sister were all there, the girl crying, the oldest boy with an arm around her. If it hadn't been for he and his brother mustering the courage to tell about their little brother, then Paul would have undoubtedly died alone in that basement. As it was, he'd been rescued, but only in the last couple of months had he been able to overcome that dreadful abuse. There were a few relatives, who'd always denied knowing anything of the child who'd disappeared from sight.

The Chases, including Harry and Sarah, returned to Kreighley afterwards. There were two new arrivals who'd been left in the charge of Adam. There were always boys needing a home, and Kreighley was seldom left long with fewer than their maximum twenty-four resident boys.

Ross Davies found it hard to take his eyes off Lee Chase, the powerful wizard who'd taken on the whole wizarding nation. It was no wonder that the boy had been frightened of being found by them. Wizards. Magic, and he shook his head. Lee had explained quite a lot the day after Paul had been killed, but he knew there was a lot more that he had not told him. He didn't know why it was that wizards thought they'd taken his magic, for instance. He hadn't gone into that. There was still enough that it was extremely difficult to comprehend.

And how could a whole area in the very centre of London be hidden? The authorities were having difficulty answering that. Adam said that he knew the area well, and yet had never gone in that portion, and never wondered why.

Harry was sitting down talking to Telly when Jack and Tom approached, though watching him nervously. Harry greeted them, and asked, "Were you coming to ask about the St. Ives expedition? I've already told Mr. Davies I can't help."

Tom glanced at Jack, and said, "You know them wizards..."

"On TV? Bizarre, isn't it?"

"Blue said they took him, and another wizard brought him back. Remember when you had a phone call, and ran off? Then Blue came back."

"Blue was very lucky indeed. We know now. If some bloke points a wand, duck and run like hell. It just might be real."

Tom said uneasily, "How many do you think there might be?"

"Not too many, I'd expect. If they were common, they wouldn't have been able to stay hidden so long."

"So you don't think they might come here again."

"They'd better not. If they do, well, they're still only human. They can be knocked over, you can throw things at them, you can hide behind things to avoid spells, and you can call for help. Say it's a wizard, and the police might bring a gun. A gun's more deadly than a wand, I reckon."

Tom said, relieved, "That's right, isn't it? They can be beat."

Harry nodded, "They can be beaten, and you don't need magic to beat them."

Telly asked, "Have you met the new boys yet, Lee?"

Tom and Jack conferred afterwards. They reckoned that Lee Chase was a wizard as well, and that's why they saw him vanish that day, and that's why someone had rescued Blue so quickly.

"Do you reckon the boss knows?"

"I guess. Maybe."

"Paul dies and straight after, wizards get exposed. Bit funny that."

"Yeah," and they were both looking at Harry.

"Best keep it quiet, I reckon."

"Yeah."

***chapter end***


	44. Chapter 44

_Notes for the convenience of readers__: Anirage is another name for Wizardkind, Aniragi is the adjective, as well as the language, and Aniragia is a wizarding area, such as Hogsmeade or Albuston. __ Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 44 **_

Hermione had been banned from the dinner at Durmstrang. A Mudblood was not welcome at the Winter Solstice Celebration. There was not a single student at Durmstrang with a Muggle parent, though there were a few Mixed-bloods, none of them with more than a single great grandparent Muggle, and even those looked down upon. They were permitted to attend the celebration though, while Hermione was not. There would be a later celebration for the senior boys and male professors. That was at midnight. With the renewed emphasis on Aniragi traditions, there would not even be a token celebration of Christmas.

Hermione was filled with a sense of urgency. The English Midnight Intruder had come to the Nadlan. The slave shops were destroyed, and almost every night, he was entering homes, freeing slaves, and leaving the residents with broken wands. It was only a matter of time before he brought down the Ministry as he had in Britain. Soon, soon she would be free to leave. But the former Sudlan was almost untouched. There wasn't much time left before her distribution system would be compromised. Her mind was still set on bringing an end to wizards, all of them, everywhere.

She returned to her work, mostly herbal remedies now, since so many Potions ingredients had become unavailable. Who would ever have thought that _Flobberworms _might become scarce? She had to ensure that Muggles would not be harmed either, in case they tried using wizard products. The news out of Britain was that they'd invaded Hogsmeade, had not yet noticed Hogwarts, and it was only a matter of time before they found Albuston. St. Mungo's as well, and she wondered what the wizards of old had been thinking of, putting the Wizard hospital in the middle of London.

She finished the spells on a set of boxes with small gifts enclosed. Muggle-repelling spells, spells to make them attractive to wizard children, and the curse, a little stronger than before. It only needed a few uses now, and the victim would never have children. Probably the Intruder would move on the Sudlan next, though she supposed she should refer to it as the European part of Britonaum, and the Southern part of the European Alliance. It hadn't taken yet, and people still spoke of the Sudlan.

There was a soft knock on her office door, and when she opened it, there were the four third-year girls. One said respectfully, "Good evening, Madam Carlyle."

The girls looked nervously at each other, hesitant. Hermione sat down and put on a kindly expression. Advice about sex maybe? Sex before marriage was very much frowned upon for the Pure-blood girls, but naturally the girls wanted to at least know what it was all about.

One started, "Our house was invaded a few nights ago. Father had his wand broken, so he stole Mother's wand. She wrote and said she thinks there's a spell so that no-one else can use your own wand. Do you know it?"

Hermione nodded, "I know it." She'd treated her own wand years before. There was also a spell that an owner of a wand could put on it, that made limiting spells become ineffective after a time. No-one had tried to put limiting spells on her wand. She'd taken care that her fellow Healers thought that she needed all of its power to achieve her more difficult cures.

The girls looked at each other, and then drew their wands and put them down on the table, "Can you do ours?"

"If the men find out, they'll probably kill me. I'm a Mudblood, remember."

"We won't tell."

Without further comment, Hermione treated each wand with both the spells she knew, and then wrote down the name of a book that contained the customisation spell. "If you're questioned, say that you found the spell and did it yourselves." She didn't tell them about the second spell.

There was a chorus of thank yous, more promises of eternal silence, and one said, "I'm allowed to order books. I'll order it straightaway."

"Good. And spread the word. It would be best if as many of our wands are useless to others as possible."

"I heard the bookshops in London were all destroyed, and now he's here," and another asked, "Do you know who it is, Mistress Carlyle?"

"Why should I?"

_hphphp_

Gerard Mailat was in charge of 'Magical Creatures Registration.' He was one of the Sudlan wizards who'd been kept in the same position after the change of regime. All he'd had to do was to swear loyalty to the new government. He was talking to the Head Keeper of the Werewolf Compound. Their whole world was under threat, and he had orders about the werewolves. Muggles could not expect to cope with humans who changed into savage creatures every full moon, and worse, could so easily spread the curse. They could arrive here at any time. They'd already breached the wards that had protected the principle Aniragia of Denmark, as well as one in Rome. There were fifteen werewolves, - fourteen males, and a lone female who'd scarcely survived the last change and was not expected to survive the next.

The keeper had been protesting, but finally conceded that it was for the greater good. Not yet though, and he explained, "A few still have relatives who keep in contact, especially at Christmas. It would create less fuss if it's done afterward."

"If you tell each family who cares that they died of the change, they're not going to make a fuss." It was a matter for shame to have a werewolf in the family, and most who were Turned, were promptly disowned.

"I guess. I don't like to have to do it. Some of them were friends, - or they were before the ruling came that they were all to be confined."

"The first transformation after Christmas then. Other magical creatures are disappearing. It won't be a surprise if the last of the werewolves die."

"I suppose not."

"I'm sorry, Tobias. It's necessary, you know that. Order them an especially good Christmas dinner if you want. I'll authorise the expenditure."

"I thought there were orders that Muggle holidays be ignored."

"I think we can make an exception in this case."

_hphphp_

In the large and wealthy home of Werner Fuchs, fifteen Nadlan Aurors went off duty, and another fifteen took up position. There were thirty altogether, shift and shift about, waiting. Other teams of guards waited in other homes with slaves, but he was expected here first, a place with thirteen slaves to serve the three men and youths of the household, a place they knew he knew of. A week before, a child had told them of seeing his father grilled about places that kept slaves. It was how he was getting his information, asking wizards, and then making them forget. The Aurors expected him here any day.

He had to be destroyed. He had to be destroyed before he destroyed all of them. It was vital. All wizards, everywhere, were told that he must be destroyed, that he was declared 'Dark Lord,' and that there was to be no nonsense about duelling. He was to be killed, preferably taken from the back, or maybe he'd fall to one of the wicked traps that almost every Wizard home now featured. The remaining wizarding newspapers had the image of 'Vonder' on the front page, day after day. Since the British slaves had begun talking, they knew the name he used, but still referred to him as 'Intruder.' The Midnight Intruder, who was bringing down their world.

_hphphp_

Hermione worked late again on Christmas Eve. She was becoming tired and irritable, and when she slept, her dreams were filled with the images of toiling over boiling cauldrons, devising attractive packaging, along with occasional nightmares of Muggle children dying in horrible ways because they tried her special shampoo.

She finally finished for the night, and sighed with relief as she started to clean up. Her work room was filled with a new anti-bruising lotion. She was pleased with that one. Wizards were not accustomed to having to put up with bruises for days on end, and the standard lotion required Grindylow scales. It was thought that Grindylows might be extinct.

A quiet voice asked, "Madam Carlyle," and Hermione spun around and almost sat in shock. Professor Guderion, Dark Arts Professor, and with a stranger. She took a quick breath, the Intruder - Vonder. But the Intruder didn't attack women, or he hadn't so far. Her gaze switched to Guderion, and the Intruder said, "He is under my control. I am told you are a Muggle-born," and he glanced at her wrist. Her sleeves were rolled up, and the narrow brown band was visible, though she usually concealed it under long fitted sleeves.

Hermione asked, "What do you want with me?"

"I wondered if you might want escape. I can break the bracelet, and you can live free in the Muggle world."

Hermione said abruptly, "I can't go. I have work to do here."

"As a school nurse?"

Hermione frowned at him. There was something about the voice. Unusual eyes, not the eyes of an old man. She looked at the professor, and the Intruder assured her, "He will not remember. I am breaking wands, the boys' and the men's." He smiled suddenly, "There's an awful shortage of wands these days, I imagine."

"Are you going to bring down the government?"

"I thought it best to leave that until I have the slaves safe."

"Can you come back for me? Maybe in six months?" She gave a furtive glance towards Guderion. He was a tall man, who liked to cultivate an air of supreme confidence, but mostly just looked creepy. Right now he was staring blankly into space.

The Intruder flipped his wand at him, and Guderion dropped, unconscious. "Now can you tell me?"

Hermione knelt next to Guderion, checked pulse, and peeled back an eyelid, making sure he was quite unconscious. She said lightly, "You could have killed that one. He's a very bad man."

"Do you want me to?"

"Would you do it just because I asked?"

"I have faith in your judgement."

Hermione tilted her head, "Who are you?"

The Intruder checked his watch, and said, "I don't have much time."

Hermione said quietly, "Please can you come back in six months time for me? I think I will have done what I want by then."

Harry was looking at her, trying to work out what was so important for his old friend, reluctant to just go boring into her mind. She was keeping it concealed, - maybe it had been a secret so long that it was automatic not to think about it. His gaze wandered to the boxes, "Anti-bruising lotion? I could do with a new supply."

He looked back at her, but she gave nothing away. He studied the boxes, but keeping a watch on Hermione as well in case she opted for killing him and collecting the reward. Something wrong, something different with those boxes. He put out a hand to touch, and then withdrew it without making contact. There was a very slight glow of magic on the empty boxes, as well as the filled ones. The boxes should not have any spells on. He put aside his scruples, and said, exerting a compulsion this time, "Tell me."

Hermione said in a toneless voice, "I am destroying them. All of them. There will be no more wizards because none of them will be able to have children."

"And you need another six months?"

"For the Sudlan."

"I'll try and come back in six months then. I may be killed, of course, you realise that. They don't like me much," and the mask creased as he grinned again.

Hermione shook her head, feeling the compulsion gone. He startled her by saying, "Sorry, but I needed to know. Will you be here in school holidays?"

"I will be here."

"Good," and he glanced at the fallen professor who promptly stood. "Should I really kill him?"

"He is cruel to the students."

He turned to go, the professor walking mindlessly beside him. At the last, Hermione said, "Take care."

He glanced back, "I'm very careful."

Two hours later, Hermione sat bolt upright in bed. Her sleeping mind had put the clues together for her. The face that didn't crease quite right when he smiled, - it had to be a mask like she used to see in movies sometimes, the voice, those startling green eyes, young eyes, and he'd forgotten to pretend to use the wand when he woke the professor. Harry Potter. Harry. It had to be.

She slept late the next morning, knowing that she had some time to do what she had to do. She was only just dressed when the news came that Professor Guderion was dead in his bed. There were also orders that every girl hand in her wand as they were needed for re-allocation. Hermione had never known about the slave enclosures, and no-one told her that sixteen slaves kept for the use of the male staff were no longer at Durmstrang. Harry had missed the other six girls in the secondary enclosure. These were kept for the use of the senior boys. It was thought better that they use slaves rather than rape Muggle girls, or worse, seduce any of the female students.

_hphphp_

Sarah slipped into Lee's room to find him still sound asleep. He looked peaceful now, but he'd been looking thin and strained, especially these past few weeks. One hundred and ninety-nine slaves he'd rescued from the Nadlan, each of them taken to a rented house near Berlin, and each returned to their homes the following day, some to a Children's Home, even when they were adults. They'd need taking care of after too many years as slaves of wizards. He'd been appearing to them as Santa Claus for the past week, though rather a thin Santa, as he said he couldn't afford to have his freedom of movement limited by a 'fatsuit.' She was very glad that he'd agreed to a holiday. He was doing dangerous work, and it was telling. He seldom made a sound now when he walked, and she'd seen him leap out of bed ready for action only because there had been a sudden crash of thunder. They would be spending January in the tropics, a repeat of their honeymoon. There were still slaves, but they would have to wait. Her Lee was suffering from battle fatigue.

Christmas dinner with the Chases again. Vera and James so loved having their family gather, but the following day, Boxing Day, there was to be a larger gathering of the extended family, the cousins and aunts, grandparents, and Vera would have the chance to boast of her children's achievements. She was apt to laugh at herself, that she'd been so jealous of her sisters, 'Lynne was always boasting about her children, and then when Susan's oldest became a doctor...' and she'd look around and say with a great contentment, 'But my children are the best,' and Daniel and Jason and Mark and Cathy would preen themselves, while Harry, up until he'd told them, would wonder whether if she knew what he'd done, she'd still like him. But she knew now, and told him how very, very proud she was of him. That in the last six months, so many parents had found their lost children, and so many young people had found their freedom.

He still hadn't told anyone else that he was a wizard, not even Dan and Jason, but several people had guessed at the part-truth, that he'd been wanted, or had been a slave to wizards, as all those other ones said they'd been.

It was out in the open now, and while Hogwarts and St. Mungo's were still hidden, Hogsmeade was exposed, and just that morning it had been on the Muggle news that another large wizard area in Northern England had been exposed - Albuston. Several wizard homes were also now open to scrutiny, and owners were scratching their heads over rates notices and demands for an officer to attend in order to assess payment due for past taxes. A man called Stephen Baxter was in charge of uncovering every last place where wizards had been hiding, knowing to rely heavily on machines, and knowing to ignore any inclination he had to pass over indications of wizards merely because he was suddenly bored with it. Baxter felt as if he'd been played for a fool, and was filled with his zeal to find the bastard wizards and punish them for their crimes. He hadn't been allowed to break the wands of those people who still lived in Diagon Alley, but wands were being broken at the slightest sign of resistance - and trying to stay hidden was deemed resistance.

At the Malfoy estate, as yet still concealed from Muggles, Draco, Venetia and Frionne were taking a bracing walk around the outer borders of their estate. In the distance, they could see a gathering of horses and riders, the local hunt, Muggles. But in all the centuries the Malfoys had lived in this place, they had never come near, and had never wondered why. Draco was leading the way, and finished up at a high point, where there was a view that took in the fields and woods and small Muggle villages that surrounded them.

Venetia asked, "Well, Draco?"

"A Christmas amnesty, they said. Declare yourselves, and unless there is evidence of crimes committed, there will be no confiscation of property, no breaking of wands, and no assessment of past taxes."

"Father says he's having nothing to do with Muggles. They're leaving for Europe."

"Then he may return to find his home gone."

"It's not the Vanden Manor or anything. He says it's just a house."

"I know Ledlie plans to sign the amnesty, but others of the Vanie only complain."

"And Van Kosan Brooks is in a Muggle gaol. He must be fuming."

Frionne had been silent, but now Draco turned to her. "Frionne? What do you think?"

"You have told me that the Malfoys have survived and become rich by being adaptable. I think we should adapt, pay our taxes like good little Muggles, and not show that we think them beneath us."

Draco looked at her thoughtfully, and remarked, "I still have my wand. Not many men still have their own wands."

"Vilnius Abercombie exhumed an ancestor for the wand, but Susan told me it nearly killed him when he tried to use it."

"He should have known not to touch it. Though I've heard of others trying."

"Well, I think every woman I know has her wand customised these days, so they can't be stolen."

"Maybe I should do mine."

"Maybe you should."

Venetia asked Frionne, "You haven't Seen anything to indicate which way we should go?"

"It doesn't happen any more. I have a feeling that no-one's Seeing anything. The so-called prophecies in the Daily Prophet, - well, none of them seem genuine. Maybe Prophecy is dying too."

Draco said, "Father used to have some very nasty creatures roaming around the estate at night, Black Hounds, Giant Fanged Stoats, that sort of thing. Mother got rid of them the moment he was confirmed dead. The thing is, I don't think they even exist any more. Muggles talk about species going extinct, but how many magical creatures have we lost in the last decade or so? I think Voldemort might be our last true Dark Lord, magical creatures are disappearing, and so are wizards."

"Well, you're still very rich, and as long as we register..."

"And Muggles have things like cinema and TV, and if we get electricity connected..."

"Muggle Lordships can be bought. Tonius was telling me."

The Steinways had no option whether or not to register, as their home had already been detected by Muggles. They had agreed to attend the Registry Office before the month was out. Van Henry Steinway had been killed in a duel by Sirius, his younger son as well, and Van Lester Steinway had been killed by Harry at the Vanie Council meeting. Now seven-year-old Hillman was the heir, though his great-uncle Thadeus was acting as Head of House. He was conferring with the child's mother. "If Hillman is registered..."

His mother said in a toneless voice, "I'd hoped to have him just a while longer."

"He is a Squib. Bruce has two healthy sons to carry on the name and the title."

The mother looked away, trying to keep up her facade of dignity. The Muggles were telling wizards that they could not kill, not anyone, no matter how necessary. But a Squib not only disgraced their name, he could not inherit. Better that the Muggles never know that a boy called Hillman Steinway had ever existed. She raised her chin, and said, "I will take care of it. But he's to be buried in the family vault. I insist on that."

Thadeus breathed a sigh of relief. The title would revert to himself, then Bruce, his son, and Danerel, his grandson. The Steinways would go on. The Vanie would go on. It was nonsense that wizards were finished.

Bruce and Margaret Steinway had two sons. They had never admitted to anyone that they had not yet shown any magic. But they were only three and four. They were probably just too young.

_hphphp_

Aimee Laycock regarded the ring proffered to her by Tremaine Lassiter, and looked at him quizzically, "You really want to marry me?"

Lassiter said humbly, "Please, my love."

"I don't know... I hadn't thought of marriage..."

"If you want to have children, you should think of it. You're getting on for a woman."

Aimee said sharply, "And you're sixty-five. I'm only thirty-two. I think I should look for someone younger."

"Please Aimee. I didn't mean to be rude. And children. I would hope to be a better father than I was to Roddy and Sarah."

"I'll think about it," and she gently pushed away the ring-box, "Keep it a while maybe."

"Should I return it?"

Aimee gave a secretive smile, "No, don't return it."

Lassiter snapped it closed, put it back in his pocket, and said casually, "We know now why Lee was so frightened of being found."

"He's not as goodlooking as those ex-slaves shown in the paper."

_hphphp_

At the Fuchs house in Germany, the Chief Auror said, "We wait. He'll be coming."

"It gets so perishing cold at night, and you said no warming charms in case he can sense them."

"Think about the reward when he's dead. They've raised it again. Fuchs himself has contributed an enormous amount."

_hphphp_

Three days later, on a cruise ship just leaving the tropical island of Tonga, Sarah moaned that she should never have touched the local produce. Harry was unaffected, but poor Sarah had been ill for the past three days. She was better the following day, and the pair were able to start enjoying their holiday. Sarah wanted Harry thoroughly rested by the time they returned. He was to finish the Nadlan, especially those thirteen slaves at the Fuchs place, then do the Sudlan, rescue Hermione, and only then pull down the wards that protected Aniragi homes from detection by the Muggles.

Harry wasn't sure if there would be many left to do. The news was that every day more wizard homes were being discovered, none yet in America, but several in Europe, and a few in Britain. Tourists were flooding into Diagon Alley now, and a certain plump lady-witch was making a fortune selling her 'magical' jewellery, though she was forbidden from actually putting any spells on anything she made. She'd been one of the first to register, and now had a Muggle accountant in her employ. She had every intention of paying future taxes as requested, and was thrilled that her customer base had expanded so enormously.

At the Fuchs home, Germany, an argument sprang up among the cold and irritable Aurors, and two wound up in Gajevic Hospital. There was one so badly injured that only the expertise of Durmstrang's Healer Carlyle had been able to save him. Healer Carlyle had a reputation as the Healer of last resort. She was not respected, but no-one was about to kill her because of her impure blood, not when she could still save lives. She was lucky that time, as the patient had been a member of one of the most important families of the Nadlan. It helped.

_hphphp_

The wandmaker, Gregoravitch, travelled to the Werewolf Enclosure trying to get a supply of magical cores for his wands. Wands using hair or claws of werewolves tended to be difficult to control, but unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, dragon parts, even Veela Hairs were almost impossible to obtain these days, and people were desperate for new wands. But the werewolves were gone, their bodies burnt. The wandmaker ran his hands through greying hair in his frustration, and his apprentice said, "Maybe a safer job would be better anyway. He'll kill wandmakers next probably, and if he doesn't, the Muggles will."

The old man looked thoughtfully at his son, and then nodded. Times were too uncertain, and he didn't think he'd like anything Muggles might decide to do to him.

Ten days later, the family whose ancestors had been wandmakers for hundreds of years, settled in a remote part of Corsica. The young man and his wife had no children. They would never have children.

_hphphp_

Patrice Pettit, nee Melenchon, regarded her Lionel, kneeling at her feet, and looking at her with adoring eyes. He had no thought for his slaves, released on her orders, and now she didn't know what to ask of him. There was no more Ministry, no more Wizemgamot, and if he used any of his remaining influence unwisely, he could be killed. There were a lot of very angry wizards about, ready to vent their rage on any reasonable target. She didn't want him dead, not only that it would kill her as well, but that she loved him. Marriage Bonds were like that. She could see his flaws, see how much harm he'd done, and yet her blood was stirring, and she finally nodded to him, "Bed."

Lionel Pettit, formerly Minister for Magic, scrambled to obey.

***chapter end***


	45. Chapter 45

_Notes of the convenience of readers__: __Kreighley:__ Staff: Ross Davies, Adam, his assistant. The boys: Travis is a senior, while the youngest are Blue, Dallas and John. Abby is John's dog, a fat Labrador. Tom and Jack call themselves 'the blackbirds.'_

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_**Chapter 45**_

It was a Saturday morning, February, 2005. Harry and Sarah were back from holidays, tanned, and feeling relaxed and fit. They would be returning to the Nadlan soon, and Sarah was busily washing clothing and packing for the trip. She thought they should hire some household help soon. She was well, just that she didn't feel energetic. All she really wanted to do was to laze in the sunshine. But they were going to choose a nice place to stay in Germany, not worry about a 'Homesafe' this time, but simply leave the rescued slaves with the authorities. There would not be a great deal of work for her to do. She could laze as much as she wanted.

Harry was helping supervise a Kreighley excursion, something that he enjoyed, and had been doing now and then for years now. It was a day trip to Exeter, and he and Ross walked together, a dozen boys trailing them, looking all around and quite obviously itching to explore by themselves. Adam had gone a different way with most of the younger boys. Ross hoped he wouldn't lose any of them. Of them all, only young Dallas seemed willing to accept that he had any authority over them.

Tom and Jack quickened their stride, joining them, and Tom said, "Boss, we've been thinking about those dogs we're getting, and we reckon Liam needs one too. It'll help him, you see." Liam was a new arrival. He scarcely spoke, and was a little like a wild thing, ready to run at an instant's notice. He 'd been living alone in Bosnia, surviving by stealing from farmhouses. He'd been identified as Liam Parr, the son of some English tourists who'd disappeared a decade before.

Jack said, "And he should share our room. Pete's picking on him, and you know he'll clear out if he's not handled carefully," and Tom, looking the picture of earnest innocence, "We'd look after him, and his dog would sleep in our room so he won't have nightmares any more."

Harry grinned, and Ross said, "Are you sure you don't just want a dog as well?"

The pair glanced at each other, and Tom said, "He'll need help to look after him properly."

Harry said, "It's not a bad idea, Ross."

"Three dogs. We only have two lined up."

"Didn't they say something about one who'd been in an accident?"

"We'll see."

The boys grinned at each other, and then raced off to tell Liam the news. Ross grumbled mildly, "I didn't say yes."

"You did say that they'd taken an interest in Liam."

"What I actually said was that it's the first time I've seen _any_ sign of a sense of responsibility in that pair!"

They arrived at the place he'd nominated for lunch, Ross pointed it out to the boys, and said loudly, "Back here by noon. Lunch here, then the Underground Passages tour, and we pick up the dogs last."

Two dogs were waiting for them, rejects from the Guide Dog programme, one because she was too easily distracted, and another because his owner had died and he refused to work for anyone else. In many ways, Kreighley was ideal for dogs, walking tracks and beaches to run on, two dozen boys to lavish affection on them, and Adam had said that caring for animals was a sure way to help 'troubled youth.' He liked reading the latest articles on the psychology of young people, and while Ross thought that a lot of his ideas were naive if not downright bunkum, this time he agreed. The only potential problem was that the dogs were Labradors, and if too many boys gave them treats, they'd soon end up as fat as old Abby.

Travis was to have the overall responsibility for the dogs, ensuring their welfare. He'd been moved into what had been the Stern brothers' rooms. Warren Stern now lived in Falmouth with his brother, so now Travis shared it with Dallas, Blue and John. The idea was that the dogs' place was to be close to the door, - all this for the protection of Blue, who might still be a target. And now it looked like there was to be one for Liam as well.

It was a few days later that Liam met Shona, a Golden Retriever/Labrador cross with an odd hopping gait due to her missing hindleg. Tom and Jack made a fuss over her, while Liam looked on, uncertain. Tom said, "Pat her, Liam. She feels nice."

Hesitantly, Liam touched the dog, and when she licked his hand, he smiled. No-one had seen him smile before.

_hphphp_

A few days later, Herr Graf, Chief Auror for the European Alliance, stalked furiously back and forth across his office, swearing vehemently. He'd withdrawn the guard from the Fuchs home just three days before, and at nine that morning, the slaves had been taken, - from witness reports, just walking away in the charge of a red-headed man in a Muggle business suit, while every other person in the house slept peacefully. Thirteen well-behaved youngsters left in the charge of Muggle police while the red-headed man had vanished in front of their eyes. And now Fuchs was on the run from Muggle police, and his family had been terrorised by armed Muggles breaking into their home. They'd thought the Midnight Intruder had given up, gone back to whatever hole he'd crawled from. And now this!

Harry entered the room where Sarah watched TV hoping for news of the slaves, but there had been nothing yet. Harry dropped himself beside her, and said casually, "No trouble. Only a few of the older ones had the slave spells, and maybe they get weaker after a time."

"Not many of the Nadlan slaves have had the spells, have they?"

"It appears that the Weasley twins are the only ones who've known them in recent years. Someone told me that the original family who had the slave shops lost all their adult males in one night some years back, so I wonder if the twins..."

"They were that bad?"

Harry shrugged, "I don't know. I guess we'll never know now. It shows that it's not a good idea to keep secrets within the family. I recently heard that the secret of training Post Owls has been lost, and there can't be many left who know how to make wands. And I'm wondering about broomsticks. There were three different manufacturers only a few years ago, only one now I think. It's probably a family secret as well."

"Broomsticks are not so important, but you said another wandmaker had been killed. No wands equals no magic, pretty much. I think I like that."

"Hermione might be cutting it fine. Durmstrang is bound to be exposed soon."

Hermione was very aware that she was cutting it fine. But hardly any babies were being born, even in the Sudlan, and maybe there was help coming from outside, maybe not ordinary help. There had been such a rash of Squibs being put down. No-one had told her, but she'd overheard something at the hospital, a Healer complaining that he'd had five just that day. Maybe Magic really was leaving the world.

She worked hard for another two months, and then sent a letter to Harry. Her owl looked at her with head cocked to its side, and Hermione asked urgently, "Can you find him? I need him."

The owl gave a reassuring hoot, and still hesitated. Hermione said, "Take your time. There is time, I think, and you should not exhaust yourself."

She waved as the owl disappeared. She wasn't quite sure that there was time. What would happen if Muggles came now? She had a feeling that she might not survive to see it. She was not permitted out of Durmstrang without an escort any more, and had given up aiming her wand at any wizard. It was too risky. She was ready. She'd been preparing even before she'd left London. She had bank accounts in the name of Lesley Cartwright, false identity documents, a false passport, - she was ready to go. But her movements were so closely monitored now, and she needed help to escape.

Harry raised his eyebrows when he saw the letter boldly addressed to Harry Potter, and remarked, "She guessed."

"She's not a danger to us, is she?"

"She's doing a lot worse than I've done to Wizardkind, and she knows that I know. She seems to trust me. I'm sure I can trust her."

He put on the 'Vonder' disguise again when he went to collect her, though the mask was becoming very thin, and he expected it to be the last time he wore it.

Igor Karkaroff was roused by an urgent knocking the following morning with the news that 'He' had been again, and that the remaining slaves were gone.

"Wands?" Karkaroff asked, and the teacher displayed his broken wand, allotted to him by the Nadlan Ministry, and formerly the property of a woman. Hardly any woman had managed to keep their wands. Even the customised ones had been confiscated. Wizards didn't think that women should have wands if they didn't.

Karkaroff already knew his own wand was broken. He'd put his hand to it the instant he was woken. He looked around and shivered. Nothing was disturbed, but a powerful dark wizard had looked at him as he slept, and had done whatever he chose.

At breakfast he announced that the school was closing. What use was a school of magic if no-one had wands?

Quite a few British women still had their wands. And quite a few young brides of forced Bond-marriages had managed to turn the tables on their husbands. Thalia Lovegood had been busy, but luckily had escaped before someone killed her. But anyway, Muggles were poking their noses into everything these days, and Bonding of any form was now illegal. Albuston Prison was still in use, and had been enlarged. Muggles thought that wizards should pay for their crimes.

Ron Parkinson (formerly Weasley) was profoundly grateful that he had never mistreated his Vivvy. She'd arrived accompanied by three policemen, had stared at him, and then denied she'd ever seen him before. Others were not as lucky. There were several former slave-owners in the prison, with a standard term of imprisonment of fifteen years.

There was some remaining resistance to Muggle rule, but British Intelligence and Police worked more closely together than for many years, and area by area, wizards were brought under the law of the land. A few times, Harry quietly stepped in, dropped wards and erected anti-apparation charms, enabling arrest of 'the recalcitrants,' as the Muggles had started calling them, - a deliberately belittling term. How could anyone be truly afraid of a mere 'recalcitrant?'

Wallace Pettit and his wife Gloria, watched the news from afar, and Gloria remarked, "There is still no hint that Harry Potter might be the Midnight Intruder."

"We only get the Muggle news. Wizards might know."

"They'll be wanting to kill him, if so."

They were like many, living very quietly, hoping to avoid notice. They had no access to wizard news as that could mean exposure, but the normal newspapers were informative.

The Daily Prophet had changed in tone. It was now rigorously regulated, and in each issue there was advice about laws that wizards were expected to obey as much as any other citizen. Harry still had his subscription to whatever wizard newspapers were operating. He assumed that one day, someone would start asking questions at the Exchange Post office, but so far it appeared that there had been no interference.

Witch Weekly was thriving, its pages filled with stories about the wonderful things now on offer to witches. So many of them had never had anything to do with the Muggle world and it was all a novelty. And witches could vote again, but for the Muggle government. All they had to do was register. There were a lot of witches feeling a wicked pleasure in seeing their men pay the price for their utter stupidity. It was generally agreed among the women that their exposure was a direct result of them using slaves. No slaves, no mysterious intruder in the night, and their world would still be secret.

About half the British Aniragi population had registered as ordered, though not including the wizard population of the former Sudlan territories. So far, it was thought free of wizards. Harry hadn't started freeing slaves there yet, or pulling down wards, but it would not be long.

_hphphp_

Lesley Cartwright, once known as Hermione Granger, then Carlyle, stared at the Muggle woman in the lift of the Ontario hotel. She looked so much like Tracey. She was not in the habit of approaching strangers, but she couldn't resist.

This Tracey was called Yvonne. A brief conversation, and Hermione knew that it was not just in looks that she was like Tracey. There was something that was different - Yvonne was firmly attracted to women, not men, and Hermione was a beautiful woman. After a week of close association, Hermione allowed herself to be seduced, discovering that while she missed certain aspects of sex with a man, there was a lot to be said for this way, as well. Hermione didn't like wizards and she didn't think she liked ordinary men much either. There was nothing that wizards had done to witches in the last few years, that was not done to perfectly normal women in several backward countries, and that included forced marriages. There were even countries where women had to wear ridiculous black shrouds whenever they went out, a few so brain-washed that they thought it was their own choice. At least Wizardkind had never tried to do that to women. Hermione thought she'd never put up with a man again.

Yvonne called her 'Dragon,' though Hermione wasn't sure quite why. It didn't sound like a compliment, and yet it was said so lovingly. Maybe she was a dragon. She certainly had some dragon-like characteristics. She had committed a genocide, though she'd only actually killed one man. She still wondered if it was happening anyway, that somehow, Magic was being bled from the world. The house-elves, the Goblins, the vanished magical species, even magical plants, and that so many children had been born Squibs. That was the most telling of all. She hadn't lifted a finger against Wizardkind at the time of those Squib births. Could there be other people working in secret to destroy wizards? But there were no spells to take away the magic of a baby. She shook her head. Maybe wizards had angered the very gods, the gods who'd made Muggles as well as wizards. Maybe Wizardkind had brought on its own destruction. Like a cold wind, and she remembered the 'evil black wind' that had taken Tracey and Vayden.

A cold wind often blew in Ontario. Hermione thought that if she stayed with Yvonne, she might suggest they move somewhere warmer, Australia maybe. There were sunny beaches in Australia. It was a long time since Hermione had enjoyed a sunny beach.

_hphphp_

In Cornwall, the wind was even more bitter than in Ontario. Tom and Jack ran along the beach, Liam and the three-legged dog vainly trying to keep them in sight. But then the blackbirds were racing back again. They were in serious training at school now, competing in athletic carnivals, and having ideas of becoming champions. They were not set on the idea, and every now and then spoke of joining the army - they wanted to be SAS, the elite. Liam was their faithful follower. More was known about this mystery boy now that he'd started talking. He'd had two older sisters, and for a time, the three children had been looked after by a farmer. But then the eldest had said they had to leave. There was a time of scavenging for food until they were separated, it was unclear how.

It was a tale of tragedy, but Kreighley was accustomed to tales of tragedy. Few of the boys came to them without scars. Most of the boys managed to leave feeling less scarred than they'd arrived. There were failures, a sixteen-year-old who'd tried to sell drugs until Harry told Ross what he was up to. Another sent back to his parents, and three weeks later, he was killed in a car accident, the father driving drunk.

There were other changes at Kreighley. John had gone to his aunt, who'd acquired a larger flat, even with a backyard for Abby, and a couple wanted to adopt Blue, who was undecided whether to even give them a chance. He felt safer at Kreighley than he did anywhere else, and the dog, 'Sherbert,' was devoted to him.

Ross was also a little dubious about the couple wanting to adopt. If they were genuine about it, why did they insist they wanted Blue, and not Cameron? Cameron was a good kid, recently orphaned, he spoke well, but he was undeniably plain. There seemed to be more people thinking of adopting older boys recently - he guessed there were just not enough babies to go around. He intended to have Lee with him next time there was an interview. Lee might be able to tell.

In Wales, Sarah and Harry leaned forward over the withers of the new horses, and raced. It was exhilarating, the speed and the cold, and being together. Sarah pulled her horse up first, as she reached the top of the tallest hill on the property, and just sat, looking out over it. Harry's horse reached her side, and then shook himself, so that Harry's grip loosened in the saddle and he swore. Sinbad had a tendency to do that, - though of course the seller had never mentioned it.

Sarah said, "I'm glad that Ginger doesn't do that, especially now."

"Especially now?"

"You know I was on the pill, of course. Remember I was sick a couple of months ago? I didn't realise at first, but I had an ultrasound yesterday."

Harry turned to her, "An ultrasound?" But then a broad smile spread over his face, "Sarah, a baby!"

Sarah smiled. She'd known he'd forget his reservations about children the moment she told him.

Harry said quietly, "A baby. A little son or daughter who's yours and mine."

"He might have magic, and you said you didn't want children."

"Oh, I want children. I want lots of children. There are even spare wands, remember? If they have magic or don't, our children."

"Mine and yours. Our children."

***chapter end***


	46. Chapter 46

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 46**_

_*******__**5 years later**__*******_

It was Wednesday, the 29th of September, 2010. Harry and Sarah sat together on the beach at Traynor, though it was a bit cold to swim. Their children, Mandy and Paul, were playing in the sand, along with Dan's Harry, and Jason's Claudia. Jason's wife, Lynne, sat next to them, suckling her youngest, while Jason and Mark had set up a game of cricket on the sand, joined by a few stray beach-goers.

Sarah watched James striding along the beach towards the headland, looking harried, and said, "Vicki and Luke are not in sight." Vicki was fifteen, another adoptive sister for Harry, but this one was causing James and Vera a lot of worry. She was mad about boys, and James frequently complained that she was turning his hair white. Luke was her current boyfriend.

Harry said, "I've told him to stop worrying about it. Vicki will do as she chooses."

"Well, I helped her get the pill as you suggested. And anyway, I don't think she does more than mess around so far."

"You told her it doesn't always work?"

"I told her, though I didn't give examples." Their Mandy was proof that the pill was not infallible. A few days illness, and protection was lost. And Aimee had told her that when she became pregnant with twins, there was not even a mild illness to blame for the failure. Sarah had new sisters as well, two of them, only a week younger than Mandy. Tremaine Lassiter was a doting father, which struck Sarah as funny in a sad sort of way. He'd never been a doting father to herself.

Harry's family was growing, while almost every other Aniragi family in all the world, was declining.

In the past five years, most wizards had become more integrated into Muggle society, viewed as oddities when it was known. The ones with wands were watched closely, but as policemen were still quick to break wands, they took care not to bring themselves to their notice. A few could work magic without wands, those few girls at Hogwarts who'd begun to learn how to bypass their pretty toy wands and access their magic more directly. They kept it very quiet indeed.

Harry's family knew he had magic, - all but Vicki, and he didn't know about his sisters-in-law, Lynne and Gemma. They all knew to keep it quiet, that he had enemies. By law, he should have registered himself and his children as Anirage, but even if no-one aside from Hermione had identified him with the Midnight Intruder, he was probably still under threat for being Harry Potter.

Lynne removed her tiny baby from the breast, and laughed as he took on a look of concentration and filled his nappy. Lynne raised an eyebrow at Sarah, who was grinning, and said, "Well, it'll soon be you again."

Sarah patted her own rounded tummy, "Due around the 14th January, though they don't seem to think they should give exact dates these days."

"How many are you hoping to have?"

Sarah glanced at Harry, "We haven't decided."

Harry said, "I love being a father. I thought we should have about fifteen."

Sarah laughed and shook her head, "Not fifteen!"

"Awww..."

Lynne finished changing her baby, and Harry offered, "I can hold him for a bit if you want to stretch your legs."

Lynne handed the babe to her brother-in-law with a thanks, stood and shook the sand from her dress, and then wandered off to join Cathy. Harry doted on the babies, it was a bit of a joke to his brothers. The powerful wizard who moved like a jungle cat, whose stern glance could stop a misbehaving child in his tracks, and yet who only laughed when a baby sicked up on him or tried to screw his nose off.

The baby stared at Harry, and then giggled at the face he made. Sarah smiled as she watched him. It was like he'd totally forgotten his early reservations about passing on his wizard heritage, but of course the world had changed so much, ever since the wizards had taken Blue, and then killed Paul. Would he have taken action otherwise? She guessed that if it hadn't been that, it would have been something else. They were so very lucky that he'd never been caught. He still checked wizard dwellings now and then, occasionally leaving old slave quarters burnt and blackened as a warning that the Midnight Intruder still walked.

Life was good. Babies, marriage, and if James was ageing, well, that was the way of it. No-one stayed young forever. Harry was thirty.

Draco Malfoy was also thirty. The Muggles hadn't interfered with wizards who had more than one wife, but they also said that from now on, one was the limit. His heir had been Millar Malfoy in America, but he'd sunk from sight, possibly dead, and he knew of no descendants. Draco had given up hope of either Venetia or Frionne conceiving. Four boisterous boys ran about the place, Venetia's boys, Antonius and Albus Bulstrode, and his godsons, Regulus and James Black, Regulus his own half-brother. He'd never discovered what had happened to Narcissa and Mary. The boys were all at an age when they should soon have been going to Hogwarts, but the Bulstrode twins appeared to be Squibs, and Draco had decided to teach the Black boys himself. It was reported that Hogwarts might have to close, not because of interference from Muggles, but because the walls were crumbling.

Horace Slughorn, headmaster of Hogwarts, walked beside two Muggle building inspectors and a senior School Inspector. The building inspectors pushed at old walls, and shook their heads at the spiral staircase to the old headmaster's office. It no longer moved, and there was no other exit, - a fire hazard. Mouldering portraits rotted with the never-ending damp, and Horace said plaintively, "The warming charms just don't work any more."

"How many students?"

"Sixty-two."

The inspector said officiously, "You're following the approved guidelines?"

"Of course," Slughorn said virtuously. There were studies in Aniragi History and culture and they were permitted to teach household spells, though no offensive spells. There were frequent inspections.

In a few years, there would be no new students. So few had been born since Hermione had turned dragon, and those few who had been born mostly attended normal school.

"It would cost an enormous amount to bring this old building up to scratch."

"We'll only need it for a few more years, you could leave us in peace for that long," and Slughorn looked around and suddenly shivered. So many centuries of tradition, and it was like Hogwarts was dying. The lower levels were unusable, and there had been some collapses, though he hadn't mentioned that to the building inspectors. The old Chamber of Secrets was easy to get to now, though half filled with rubble. But it was Hogwarts. He was sure the castle would not hurt its occupants.

_hphphp_

Molly Weasley was plump, middle-aged, and looked kindly and totally harmless. She was the face of Aniragi-Medj Relations. The word 'Medj' had been hurriedly coined when a complaint was made that the word 'Muggle' was demeaning. But now she was doing something different. Assisted by her daughter-in-law, Fleur, she was doing the pilot for a new TV programme, 'Cooking with Magic.' She bustled around the kitchen, casually waving her wand at various food items which started preparing themselves, having large pots of simmering stews move themselves as desired, no hands but a pointed wand, and with the washing up going on in the large sunk, totally unattended.

Meantime, Fleur exerted all her charm to explain what she was doing. There were no such things as self-peeling sprouts now, but they never had saved much time, and Molly was an accomplished cook. Most of the things she cooked would be shared with the film crew later, and she had a few herbal ingredients ready. Not much, just to encourage a feeling of trust and liking. This was an exercise in public relations.

By the following June, her cooking show was watched all over the world, and Ginny saw her mother for the first time in years. Trevor remarked, "That was a genius move. How can anyone view this sort of activity as sinister?"

"Will we go back one day?"

Trevor glanced at their little girl. There had been no other children, so it looked like there was to be no heir for the Lyons family. Their little girl was six. Maybe they were better where they were, and he was sure that little Lua was better off here. Such a pretty child, dark-haired, dark eyes filled with intelligence. She was a joy to them both - and just a generation ago, she would have been killed for not having magic. He'd had a brother and two sisters who'd vanished, though he'd been adult before he knew why.

In his comfortable home in New Zealand, a different time zone but the same day, Severus Snape also watched Molly Weasley as she displayed her cooking skills, and incidentally, demonstrated that magic could be harmless, and that witches could be stout and motherly.

Trieneke asked, "So, what do you think?"

"We have a good life here. The girls are happy and healthy."

"There's been no incidents of accidental magic for months, not since you started the meditation exercises with them every morning."

"I wish I'd stolen a few more wands when I visited England."

"Five children, counting Iseria's, and nine wands. If we pass on our wands rather than be buried with them, it's enough for a while, anyway."

"Herbal remedies and cosmetics, but the tourists lap them up."

"We've been selling a lot more since I made you stay away from them."

Snape grinned ruefully. He never had managed to keep his sneer in check. It was just that people were so very, very stupid.

Trieneke asked, "Do you regret not killing Harry?"

"Most of us have survived. They might not have done if I'd attacked him. Probably he would have killed me, then been so annoyed that he killed all of us. But he didn't, and there's Molly Weasley with fans in the hundreds of thousands, and I spotted Van Malfoy and Van Carlyle on TV as well. They were in a grouping with Britain's Prime Minister."

"So you think we can rise again?"

"It rather depends on whether there are any wand-makers left alive."

***chapter end***


	47. Chapter 47

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 47**__._

_*******__**Year 2028**_*******

Mandy Chase and her three brothers had disregarded their parents' habitual caution, and were in Diagon Alley, now the premier tourist attraction of London. There were guides, all of them dressed as witches or wizards, and probably none of them with magic. Most of them were young, and it was known that there were hardly any young wizards. Only the guards at the entrances to Diagon Alley were normally dressed, carefully searching each visitor for wands. You had to have a permit to carry a wand. They'd known about that, and their wands were safe at home. Mandy, aged 23, Paul, 21, and Jacob, 17. Jacob had been named after the wolf-man in 'Twilight.' Sarah was a fan, though she was a little ashamed to admit to it. Then there was Kevin, 15. The younger children had been left at home, Lynne, Christine and Mary, 14, 13 and 5. Seven children, each one of them with magic. The Chase children, Harry Potter's children.

There was a preservation order on all of Diagon Alley. The buildings that had survived Harry's fury were maintained in as original condition as possible, and most other buildings restored as near as possible to the original condition. There were several true wizard shops, owned by wizards, a jewellery shop, a petshop, a few lolly shops, a themed bookshop, and at least eight souvenir shops, but most were owned and run by Muggles dressed up as wizard and witches. No magical products or animals were sold, though owls were for sale to those with a license.

They wandered, and Paul said, "I wonder how well Dad knew the Alley."

"He said he hardly ever came here, too dangerous."

"And then he wrecked it."

"Over twenty years ago. You can't see any signs of it now." But then they came to a flat area, with green grass, picnic tables, and a large plaque. _'Site of the so-called Ministry of Magic. This was where 'laws' were made making it legal to own slaves.'_ There was a statue roped off with a guard standing next to it, a replica of the old golden statue that had once adorned the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The central figure was a puddle of gold. It was prominently marked, 'Replica only,' but a burly guard stood beside it anyway. It was vandalised now and then, by those people who had suffered at the hands of wizards. Many of their crimes against Muggles were well known now, the slaves and the obliviations, only the murders of Muggle-born children had been kept from the general population.

Paul asked, "So what do you think? Continue where Dad leaves off? Just checking now and then?"

"We're not like he is. We'd probably be caught."

"It's a strange story, isn't it? That he somehow absorbed this other wizard's power when their wands connected?"

"That's what he says happened. But if he was only fifteen, how could he have defeated this Voldemort, who was supposed to be so powerful?"

"I still don't think he's telling us the whole story about that," said Mandy.

"Mum says we're not allowed to ask him, that he doesn't like talking about it."

"Do you think there might be any clues in the museum?"

"Won't hurt to look."

There was a lot to look at and read. A large model of Hogwarts in all of its glory, lights blazing from its windows. It was only ruins now, even though the Muggles had made a big effort to save it. It now looked uncannily like the illusion of a ruin that had once been its protection from the Muggle world. Kevin pushed the button that started a commentary, and a ghost-like figure shimmered into view, starting the recital. "I am Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of the greatest school of magic ever known." A hologram.

After a bit, Jacob said, "If only we could have gone there."

"And learn to despise _Muggles_, and accept slavery as a right?"

"Mum says she always hated that word."

"No wonder. Medj is better, and 'normal people' better still."

Jacob said, "But we're not normal. We have our wands and we should be like policemen."

Mandy thumped him, and Paul said vehemently, "For God's sake, Jake, keep your voice down."

"Sorry."

They moved on into a room with some life-size portraits, stopping in front of one of Voldemort, and Kevin said, "Scary, isn't he?"

"Maybe he was snorting too much cocaine. That can ruin noses, I hear."

A guide drifted over, a disapproving look on his face at the irreverence. He wore robes, and sported a long beard, slightly crooked. He nodded at the portrait, "They called him 'He Who Must Not Be Named.' That was how scary he was."

Mandy smiled at him, and asked, "Can you tell us about him, please?"

The guide looked at the attractive young woman, and explained how he had the wizarding world in fear, but then a ceremony had gone wrong, and hundreds of his followers had died as well as himself.

"A ceremony? Wasn't there a fight?" asked Mandy, and Jacob asked, "Are you a wizard?"

"I'm afraid not, son. And anyway, wizards are dying out. There's hardly any younger than twenty."

"What happened to them?"

"No-one knows."

Mandy asked, "Were they offered fertility treatment?"

"A few applied, but I heard there were some nasty side-effects. They're different from us."

"But they're still human, aren't they?"

The guide grinned, "Civil Liberties would have my head if I said they were not. A different sort of human."

Jacob said, "I heard there was some young wizard defeated this Voldemort."

"A ceremony that went wrong. No fight."

The youngsters glanced at each other, and Mandy thanked the guide, and he nodded indifferently and wandered over to talk to a middle-aged couple with American accents.

The Chase children went from portrait to portrait - Merlin, the four founders of Hogwarts, and then Paul called, "This one."

Their great-grandfather, Albus Dumbledore, and there was a list of his accomplishments, and not a hint that he hadn't been a pillar of virtue all of his life. They stared, and Kevin said, "He was the same age as me, and that bastard tortured him, his own grandson." Harry had told them about the Binding Bracelets.

They wandered further, and came to a picture of a shining youth, green eyes, dressed in white, the 'Child of Light' picture. The explanation stated that the 'Child of Light' was also known as the Protector, because he was reputed to protect Medj and Medj-born children.

"Medj, Muggles," murmured Mandy, and Paul asked uncertainly, "Is it him?"

Kevin said, "You can see the scar, and he looks a bit like me. Mandy too. I'm pretty sure it's him," and he lowered his voice, "I think that's Dad."

"But why would he be dressed like that? As if he's some sort of a sacrifice?"

They stared a while longer, but there was nothing more to discover, and Paul finally said, "Weird," and they turned away.

Harry was wakeful that night. He was forty-eight, no longer young but not yet old. His body was a little thicker than it had been, and his hair was beginning to grey. His face was fuller, and there were lines, but his eyes were still as vivid green as they'd ever been. Only little Mary had inherited those startling eyes. Surprisingly, not one of his children had had any problems with their eyesight.

Sarah asked quietly, "Something troubling you?"

"I try not to pry, but they can't help thinking about it, and almost they're asking, even though they decided not to."

"About Cerlikh?"

"And the Sacrifice. They saw the 'Child of Light' poster. I should tell them the whole truth, but I just don't think that I can. I'm bright red just thinking about it."

"Maybe I should," and after a moment, she admitted, "I don't think I can either."

"What then?"

"I guess they'll just have to stay curious."

"Will I teach them more of the defensive spells? They're going to ask, and I think they plan to do what I do, just keep an eye on things."

"They're growing up, Mandy and Paul both in their twenties. I have a feeling they'll do it anyway. All you can do it have them as well prepared as you can. Teach them about it, show them the maps and so on."

"How many will there be left in fifty years? Hermione was very effective."

"It's a little sad in a way, but it's not a good thing to have one species of humans with powers that the rest of us don't have."

Harry grinned at her, "You don't hesitate to get them to use magic when you want."

"Well, the _scourgify_ is very, very useful, especially when Mary starts inventing. She gets things into an awful mess sometimes."

"She wants a bigger pony. She says she's too big for Toby."

"She's only five!"

_hphphp_

In their home on the Queensland coast of Australia, Hermione and Yvonne were at breakfast. Yvonne handed Hermione her coffee, and commented, "You'll be a grandmother soon, Lesley. You'll like that."

"I do love babies. It broke my heart to lose Reginald."

"He's Van Carlyle now, you said."

"Tonius is dead, so if the Vanie are still recognised at all, yes, he is Van Carlyle," and she added in a wistful tone, "You couldn't expect him to remember me. He probably doesn't know I ever existed."

"You've been mother to my children, as much as I have."

"And I've _loved_ being mother to your children. I am so happy with you. It's like I was given a second chance at life."

_hphphp_

Van Reginald Carlyle was a thoroughly unpleasant man, embittered and arrogant. He had his wand, he'd been taught magic, but he wished he'd lived in the last century, when wizards held sway over the dirt-people he was surrounded with. He refused to call them 'Medj.' They were worse that that - dung people, filth, only fit for using. His grandfather had told him about slave collars and the slave spells, but Van Carlyle had a wish to punish Muggles for what they'd taken away. Tonius had kept him law-abiding when he was alive, but now he was unrestrained. He never had taken notice of Julia, and certainly not the younger wife, Lauris, When he started raping, it was violent, and then, instead of using the Obliviate, he merely slashed throats with a knife. That way, there was no evidence left that he'd ever interfered with anyone.

But then one night, Harry came, questioned him closely, and killed him. He'd had a strong suspicion that he might have to kill that night, and none of his children were with him. They were becoming increasingly efficient at walking silently, but they could not feel magic as he could, and they could not detect the difference between Medj and Wizard from the feel alone. He worried about their chosen path in life - to keep Wizardkind in check, but they were determined. He didn't want them to be killers, as he was a killer, but maybe instead of killing, they could notify Muggle police. He had a feeling that the police had already been on the trail of Reginald Carlyle. If he'd left any DNA, they would know they were looking for a wizard, though nothing had been said. They were always careful to not give any grounds for hate crimes against wizards.

***chapter end***


	48. Chapter 48

_Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_Chapter 48_

_***__Year 2035__***___

Stephen Baxter was shortly to retire after a distinguished career in British Intelligence, for the last thirty years dealing specifically with Aniragi Affairs. This was a briefing, highly confidential, for two of his seniors, plus a younger agent, a combat veteran who'd specialised in Aniragi Affairs after the uprising in Roumania. If action was taken, it would be Cox who would be entrusted with the assignment.

Once the room was locked against intrusion, Baxter started by displaying a picture on the wall, and asked, "Anyone know who that is?"

One of the seniors said, "Lee Chase, isn't it? Millionaire philanthropist, has set up a quite big enterprise to fight white-slavery." The 'white-slavery' he referred to was the ongoing problem of naive girls from poor countries who accepted 'jobs' in richer countries, and then found themselves working as prostitutes.

"He rescues the slaves, sets them up, and the organisers have a tendency to disappear, we think dead. His methods are ruthless, but effective. Lately, he's turned his attention to certain areas in Northern Africa where slavery is still to be eradicated."

"You think he should be stopped?"

"Watched carefully, not stopped. His full name is Ricky Lee Chase, formerly Ricky Drayton, formerly Harry Potter. And I'm quite sure that he is the wizard known as 'Vonder,' or the 'Midnight Intruder.' The one who used to dress as Batman according to some of the rescued slaves. The one who turned against his species."

"Do the wizards know this?"

"I don't want them to. And Chase himself has no idea that anyone knows. He knows the criminal wizards and he can deal with them in a way that we cannot, and I do not want him molested. He has seven children, aged between twelve and thirty. They presumably have magic, but if he registers, other wizards would almost certainly kill him for being Harry Potter. There has been no hint that he's been linked with Vonder."

Cox gave a sudden laugh, "He dressed as Batman, so we do like Gotham City did with Batman. Let him work for good, and don't trouble him."

Baxter grinned, "Like that. He is breaking laws, but unimportant laws. And the ones he kills, if he kills anyone, are the ones who should be killed."

"Wasn't there something in the paper about a half-made snuff movie? The victim was gone and all the participants shot dead. You think that could be him?"

"I'll tell you all that I know, but as I said, no action. Leave him alone."

"They gave him a high honour once, an Order of Merlin."

"Maybe we should give an Order of Anti-Merlin."

There was laughter, and when a knock came at the door, files were turned down, and the picture on the wall turned off. Lee Chase and the Chase children would not be molested.

_***x*** _

***_Year 2156, more than a century later__***_

Thousands of people gathered for the funeral of Claudia Veronice Shunpike, last known surviving member of the species of Anirage.

It was a sad occasion, so much history, so much colour, gone. The Chase descendants gathered at Whiteoaks, once known as Potter Manor. It was difficult to know how many wizards still lived in isolated pockets in the world, but they thought it probable that they were the largest group, forty-three of them, not counting spouses.

The Snape/D'Angouleme descendants also gathered. Fifty-two of them, stronger in magic than most, as there had been some intermarriage among the descendants.

But the next grouping were descendants of Dean Thomas, just three of them with magic. Dean was very lucky that he'd happened to be travelling when the changes had begun, and then had had the unusual good sense to stay well away from the wizarding world. There were a few others, most of them in ones and twos. Few children were born with magic when most of their ancestors were without magic. There were no Muggle-borns. There were not enough wizards to leave them. Most of those with magic kept it very quiet. And anyway, so few had wands.

_***x*** _

***_Year 2256__***___

Another century passed. Stories were told, stories and legends, not always believed, of flying carpets, owls delivering mail, broomsticks that were for more than sweeping floors, portraits that moved and spoke... A vanished world.

The world of Anirage was a favourite genre for novels. They called it fantasy.

_The End._

_If you enjoyed the boys of Kreighley Beach Boys' Home, you might be interested in my Penwinnard Stories. Kreighley Beach has become Penwinnard, but it is the same place, even with some of the same characters. _

_No 'Harry Potter,' of course, and no magic. _

_These are original novels, and available at a small price from _: profile/view/Samray


	49. Chapter 49

_**And what happened to?**_

Ron Parkinson, (formerly Weasley) lived quietly and quite happily with Pansy. No children.

Seamus Finnigan, killed when he tried to defend his Muggle father from the obliviator.

Neville Longbottom: married a Muggle woman five years after Ginny was taken from him. They were active in Aniragi-Medj Relations, eventually knighted for his work. A son, no magic, but the Longbottom family continued.

Creevey Brothers, killed as Muggle-borns, their wives fled with their children the moment they thought attention was off them.

Justin Finch-Fletchley, Muggle-born, fled Britain and escaped. One wizard child, no grandchildren.

Luna Lovegood, married a scientist, who was driven half barmy when she casually made magic that defied all laws of logic. She had no further contact with the wizarding world, even when her children showed they had magic. By the third generation, intermarrying with Muggles only, there were none left with magic. This was the pattern with others who'd managed to avoid Hermione's products.

Xenophilius Lovegood, left his possessions to Claude, the slave. When disputed by distant relatives, the Muggle court upheld Claude's claim, viewing him as a de facto partner.

Thalia Lovegood was never foolish enough to show her face near wizards again. She was the one adding Bonds to the unequal Bond marriages that had become the norm among the Pure-bloods.

**Hogwarts staff**: 

Hagrid was warned to disappear, and did. He became a hermit in some remote mountains in the far North of Scotland.

Professor Flitwick was a dwarf born to wizard parents. There were other dwarfs in his family. The second time someone accused him of being a Goblin half-breed, he took the hint, and left the wizarding world. Half-breeds were being eradicated. For a time, he enjoyed himself working at the Snow White exhibit at a fun-fair, then later made a very nice living in movies. Look for him next time you see a dwarf in a Muggle movie.

Poppy Pomfrey registered as an Aniragi Healing Nurse, and took a job in the biggest of the London hospitals. She worked in the large and modern ward that was set aside for Aniragi patients. It took the place of St. Mungo's.

**Wallace Pettit's crew**:

Wallace and Gloria married, no children.

Sue and Barbara married Muggles, no children.

**The Vanie**: most families were left without children, but retained some respect while they lived. Their wealth suffered under the Muggle taxation regime.

Van Draco Malfoy and Van Tonius Carlyle worked in cooperation with the Muggle government, and each achieved their goal of becoming 'Sir' in the Muggle world.

**Kreighley boys**:

Tom and Jack: Became soldiers of the SAS, sometimes in trouble due to their lack of regard for the rules, at other times, accepting accolades as heroes.

Liam became less timid as he grew, and wound up working in the Guide Dog facility. His lost sisters were never found.

Blue refused adoption, and grew up at Kreighley.

**Sudlan:**

Bernard Mauresmo, the conscientious head of Law Enforcement, took a killing curse in the back as a preliminary to the takeover. It was the same for Sabine Portat, the Dassier, and a few other influential citizens. The strikes were well coordinated, and were almost all of them simple killings - no duels.

Madame Maxime was executed as a half-breed. She did manage to have a fight, took down two of the enemy, but she was just too big a target.

The older Muggle-borns were used as servants until the Muggles took over, and enforced their freedom.

**The Magical Species**:

Goblins, House-elves, centaurs: all vanished from the world that we know, possibly to another realm as Dobby referred to.

**Harry's brothers and sisters****: **

Daniel completed his Bachelor of Arts, but then opened an Art Gallery in St. Ives.

Jason made a successful business from his photography.

Mark and Cathy both became accountants.

Vicky became pregnant at the age of 16, lived with the father for a few months, then turned up with a black eye, left Vera with the baby 'for an hour,' and wasn't seen again for a few years when she was spotted playing one of the characters in a TV soap opera. The child was raised as Vera's own. She finally had the chance to mother a baby.

**Harry's children**: The Chase children, all seven of them, learned what they could from their father, and did as they'd resolved to do, keep an eye on things - the police of the wizarding world. Harry was their teacher and as they never went in teams of less than three, the most serious incident was when Jacob caught a cutting curse across his shoulder.

**Harry Potter** lived his life as Lee Chase, and was finally buried as Ricky Lee Chase, born 4th October, 1981, died 17th August, 2088.

**Acknowledgements: **

Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. Sorry Joanne, I killed off your world.

Prophecies: 

_* The 'Midnight Sun' prophecy by Herald_Mage Anduli, author of the story 'Midnight Sun.' _

_* The 'Green eyes' Prophecy is from the story 'The World Without Me' by Eternal Cosmos. _

_* The 'Two Hawks Flying' prophecy is from Snapegirlkmf, in her story, 'Broken Wings.' _

_* The 'Field of battle' prophecy is by Loralee1 in '__Time to Live.__' _

_*'The Protector Prophecy' is by fanfiction author, Iseriad. The character of Iseria D'Angouleme was devised by Iseriad. _

_**And a note to the reader: **_

The prophecy that started this saga:

_Victory for the Side of Light... Victory before the leaves fall... Victory this year... A Sacrifice... This Victory depends on the sacrifice of the Marked One. Betrayed by his friends, hurt by his enemy. Subject to the Rite of Cerlikh... When innocence is defiled, when understanding comes, his anger will be unleashed, his power released... His anger is the key... The Marked Child of Light must know the Dark in order to vanquish the Lord of the Dark. The innocent child, shining white, in his sixteenth year, at the full of the moon. Victory for the Side of Light before the leaves fall. Shame for the Side of Light... Shame! The innocent child lost and broken... The Child of Light lost and broken... _

Would there still be a world of wizards if Dumbledore had never taken any notice of this prophecy? Even if a prophecy has a grain of truth, it is as Severus Snape said, - Only fools act on prophecies.

_hphphp_


End file.
